


Where There's a Will

by swankkat (solitarystroll)



Series: Somewhere in Time [2]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fourth Doctor Era, basically many familiar faces from the Tenth Doctor's run, so this could count as a, this was written before S4 had started airing, with a call back to
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-10
Updated: 2008-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-25 01:20:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 27,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9796076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solitarystroll/pseuds/swankkat
Summary: When the Doctor discovers a mysterious object, it seems the Universe is willing to give him a second chance. But in order to fulfill his quest, he must also face memories of the past...





	1. Somewhere Out There

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dettiot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dettiot/gifts).



> Originally written for the oh_she_knows Secret Santa exchange on livejournal, originally posted December 10, 2007, with the prompts of: "Reunion fic with the Doctor actively looking for and finding Rose; reference to "I made my choice a long time ago and I'm never gonna leave you" and/or "That's the curse of the Time Lords." It seems that I could not do a simple reunion story; thus, what was once planned to be a short, fluffy reunion fic got quite out of hand.

It was just another day at Torchwood.  
  
"Like any day was 'just another day,'" Jack Harkness muttered to himself. He stood on the platform overlooking the main area of the Hub, watching his team scurry about with instruments and medical equipment. Just when things had started to calm down, the Rift had spit out some new alien tech that might be potentially hazardous.   
  
But it wasn't just the weapons that concerned Jack. His eye landed on a strange fragment of debris that had arrived with the rest of the space junk. While seemingly innocuous at first, there was something odd about its cylindrical shape and the way it looked lighter than it really was, if the way Tosh handled the object was any indicator.  
  
Taking the stairs two at a time, Jack leaped down just in time to stop Tosh from damaging the object any further. She looked up at him with mild surprise.  
  
"Do you know what this is, Jack?" Tosh tilted her head at him. "You seem to recognize it." Jack started to shake his head, but his eyes landed on a familiar-looking shape engraved into the glass-like, foreign material.  
  
"I don't know its purpose, no." He frowned thoughtfully, crossing his arms over his chest. "But I do know someone who might." Jack craned his head, spotting Ianto and Gwen laying out objects on one of the examination tables. "Ianto, get UNIT's scientific advisor on the phone. We need a consult."   
  
Ianto nodded and picked up the receiver of the nearest phone. Gwen walked over with a puzzled look.  
  
"Why are we calling them? Could this be dangerous?" She indicated the object still cradled in Tosh's hands. "Should we suit up or something?"   
  
Jack schooled his features to give away none of the alarm he felt, but he knew Gwen could see right through him. "No idea. But if anyone would know, it would be the folks at UNIT and Martha Jones."  
  


* * *

  
  
Miles away at a secret location, Dr. Martha Jones sighed and pulled on the lab coat she'd just finished taking off. Pulling an all-nighter at the hospital was bad enough, but her CO received a phone call this morning asking for some specialized advice…which meant that Martha was called in to help out. As a junior scientist and medical advisor to the United Nations' Intelligence Taskforce, Martha was an invaluable asset to the identification and treatment of alien illnesses and was even able to care for the occasional alien life form. Her travels with the Doctor were not exactly spoken of among her peers, but she suspected her UNIT superiors knew all about her experiences. No doubt from Jack, the man who had recommended her for the position.  
  
Stuffing an array of medical equipment into a duffle bag, she wondered silently what Jack needed her for this time. Surely they weren't having any problems dealing with the weevils, and the Rift had been strangely inactive over the past few weeks. A softly cleared throat just outside her open door reminded her of the soldier waiting to escort her to the helipad, so she zipped up her bag, tied her hair back into a loose ponytail and strode briskly from the room, not waiting to see if the young man followed. She knew he would.  
  
Martha's mind was occupied with curious thoughts for the entire trip to Cardiff. Her first thought was the Doctor, especially since he was known for turning up just when strange things began to happen. She shook her head; the Doctor was the least of her concerns right now. Her CO indicated that Jack thought the object might be dangerous, and her immediate concern was for the safety of Jack's team. Who knew if the debris they found was radioactive – or worse? Martha was so embroiled in her own thoughts that she almost missed the pilot announcing their arrival. She grabbed her belongings and climbed out of the helicopter, brushing her fringe back as she exited.  
  
Her eyes immediately landed on the crisp, clean suit and handsome face of Ianto Jones. He smiled cordially and bowed slightly, indicating that she should follow him. Martha gave a brief nod of dismissal to her UNIT escorts and walked over to the large black SUV parked off to the side. Ever the proper gentleman, Ianto helped her climb into the car before getting in himself.  
  
"Jack thinks you might know what this object is," Ianto spoke quietly as he turned the key in the ignition. He pulled out before continuing. "Seems there is a symbol on its exterior that he recognizes and he wants confirmation."   
  
Martha nodded, not quite sure how to respond. But, if her instinct was correct, it seemed that the Doctor was involved after all.  
  


* * *

  
  
Twenty minutes later, Martha put her bag down on a table and looked around the Hub. Like the TARDIS, the Hub was much larger than it appeared from the outside. Her mouth quirked upwards at the comparison and at her remembered naivety. A soft sound at her side shook her from her musings, and she looked up to see Jack leaning against the door frame. As handsome as ever, _damn him_ , she thought ruefully.  
  
"I see Ianto got you here just fine. Curves still in all the right places," he drawled with a smirk. "Care for a drink, or do you want to get down and dirty first thing?" Martha rolled her eyes at his innuendo and playfully swatted him on the arm.  
  
"Enough of your talk, Mr. Harkness. Let's go see this mysterious object of yours." She grinned up at her friend and colleague, who winked and lead her out of the room, down to where the fragment was being contained.  
  
"When I first saw it, I thought it was just another piece of trash," Jack explained, nodding his head in the object's general direction. "A broken piston, a lever, a magic fairy wand." The amused smile was quickly replaced by a pensive look as they arrived at the containment chamber. He worked the combination to one of the safes as he spoke. "But when I saw it, when I saw the symbols," He stared into Martha's eyes for a moment. "I knew this was something… _different_." Jack pulled out the glass and metal box and set it on the desk.  
  
Martha had seen many of these boxes over the last few months. Like safety deposit boxes, only for alien artifacts that Jack and the Torchwood team didn't want mistakenly placed in the wrong hands. A silver glove that could resurrect; a jagged blade with a deadly past; an amulet that enabled the wearer to hear others' thoughts; a psychic projector that could recreate disturbing or violent events inside the user's mind; all items that were dangerous when wielded by any mortal being.   
  
But only one thing occurred to Martha as Jack lifted the item out of the box and held it for her to see the strange, swirling shapes carved into the deceptively fragile looking material. She looked up at him with a combination of fear and anticipation in her eyes. Jack nodded at her recognition and set the object down on the table. A momentary silence filled the room, and Martha shivered with foreboding.  
  
"I need to call the Doctor."   
  


* * *

  
  
Half a galaxy away, on Ruxpinia IV, the Doctor was caught up in _another_ plot to destroy the universe, and of course, he was trying to help stop it.  
  
Granted, running from three-foot tall creatures that looked like stuffed animals weren't exactly on his list of favorite things to do. Unfortunately, it seemed his knack for sticking his foot in it hadn't dimmed with age, and he'd insulted the planet's leader by patting him on his fuzzy head. He couldn't even blame Donna, for he'd left her on Earth for a bit of a holiday with her parents. After all, she deserved it after all the scrapes she'd pulled him through over the past few months. All things considered, it wasn't his finest moment.   
  
Of course, it was just that moment when the mobile stuffed into his coat pocket went off. Cursing in a multitude of languages, he rummaged around, hands grasping around items he hadn't come across in years, decades perhaps, but the noisy bit of 21-century technology eluded his fingers. The ring-tone chirped happily at him until he took the moment to stop running and rummage properly. That was when he noticed he was no longer being pursued.  
  
Spinning around to face the angry teddy bear mob, the Doctor was rather stunned to see that his would-be captors had dropped their weapons and were currently laying face-down on the sandy earth. He opened his mouth to speak, but his coat pockets finally decided to give up their prize as his fingers closed around the weight of the now-silent phone. He was about to pull it out when a voice from the crowd tremulously spoke.  
  
"Oh, great and wise furless-one, please play your music again!" A rather dingy looking creature near the front lifted its head out of the dust and looked up at the Doctor with adorably pleading eyes. "Such sounds could not be made by any Ruxpinian."   
  
The Doctor, being great, wise, and blessedly furless, quirked an eyebrow at the fuzzy creature. _Well_ , he thought, _if it's music they want, music they'll get._ He thumbed the volume setting to as loud as he could make it and thrust the phone out at the crowd, hoping his caller would ring again.  
  
A few tense moments passed before the sweet, dulcet tones of Fergie blasted through the mobile's tinny speaker again. The Ruxpinians immediately started bowing and making strange, undulating motions, which the Doctor could only describe as 'dancing.' The dusty creature from before was first to approach the Doctor with arms outstretched.   
  
"Oh wonderful Doctor, such music we have never heard. Obviously you are far superior and we bow to your knowledge. Please accept our apologies for the disrespect we have shown you, and leave in peace and good-will."   
  
"Well, I never!" The Doctor grinned and tugged on his earlobe. "Thanks for that! Seems you lot aren't so bad after all." He bowed with what he hoped was respect and waved cheerily at the 'dancers' before dashing off to the TARDIS, with the phone still ringing in his hand.  
  
As soon as he was inside, the Doctor pressed a button on the mobile to answer the call. "Whoever you are, you're brilliant, just brilliant! Saved my life, you did! Well, your call did. Anyway, this is the Doctor, can I help you?"   
  
It was a moment before the caller spoke. "Doctor?"   
  
The Doctor's face lit up in recognition. "Martha Jones! Always knew you were brilliant." He belatedly remembered her hesitant voice. "Um… what's wrong?"   
  
There was a shaky sigh on the other end, and a low murmur of what could only be a familiar man's voice. The Doctor realized instantly that Jack was involved and something about the tone of Martha's voice told him that this wasn't just a call to reminisce. His instinct proved correct when he heard the American drawl through the line, although from the sound of it, he was standing a few feet away.  
  
"Martha, you need to tell him." Jack's voice sounded urgent, which immediately drew the Doctor's attention.  
  
"Martha?" He made his voice sound as commanding as possible. "Martha, what is it?"   
  
"Doctor, I'm going to send you a photo. Jack and I… we think you're more familiar with the object than we are. I… we, think you need to come immediately."   
  
His eyebrows drew together in puzzlement. "Martha, you know I don't work well with Torchwood. UNIT is a different matter, but this? I don't think it's a good idea. Whatever I identify-" He was cut off by a brief rustle, and then Jack's voice bellowing in his ear.  
  
"Doctor, I know you don't like us Torchwood folk very much, but this is important! I wouldn't have called you if I didn't think it concerned you personally. Just have a look at the picture we're sending you, okay? Then you can decide whether it warrants your attention or not."  
  
"Well, a picture won't hurt," the Doctor mumbled as he waited for the transmission to come through. The grainy photo was too small to make out correctly, so with a few button-presses and a little sonic screwdriver action, he beamed the photo over to the main console monitor…  
  
…and immediately took a step back. The Doctor's mind screamed at the utter impossibility of what his eyes were showing him. He could hear Jack trying to get his attention through the forgotten phone, asking if he'd received the image, but the Doctor's mind was whirling with thoughts and ideas. He leaned over the monitor, placing his glasses on his face for a better look, hoping that his initial glance would be proved wrong with further examination.   
  
"Jack, Martha, I'll be there in a moment. Keep that out of sight until I arrive," he said absently, cutting off their questions and protests by pressing a button to end the call. His eyes glued to the image on the screen, with his mind telling him it was impossible, the Doctor was overcome with a sense of foreboding, anticipation... And, strangely, hope.  
  
The object itself was painfully familiar - a wand of sorts, made out of a material similar to lead crystal; one end, the handle, was thicker than the slender rod protruding from its end. But most unsettling was the handle's markings. Its surface had a crude yet accurate carving of the symbol of Rassilon. And beneath that lay a series of markings typical of the circular modern writing of Gallifrey.   
  
The Doctor's hearts hiccuped as he realized that there was only one possible translation.  
  
 _Bad Wolf._


	2. Here I Go Again

Bad Wolf.  
  
Those two words, childish in their simplicity, had chased the Doctor through two regenerations, across time and space, and through another universe entirely. And he couldn't help thinking that he was somehow tied to them, willingly or otherwise. Would he ever stop encountering them? Some long-buried part of him hoped he wouldn't.  
  
But, here in Jack's lab, surrounded by space debris and time junk, sat another reminder of everything he'd ever sacrificed.  
  
Jack and Martha hovered nearby as silent witnesses while the Doctor peered at the carvings, poking and prodding at the rod with the sonic screwdriver, as he made indecipherable noises under his breath. He could feel his former companions' unease and impatience, but he wasn't quite ready to admit to himself, much less anyone else, what lay on the table before him. Unable to take the silence much longer, Jack cleared his throat loudly and stepped over to the table.  
  
"Doctor… any clue as to what that thing is? We recognize the symbols from our time on the TARDIS, but we can't make out what it means." Jack's voice was soft but his tone let the Doctor know that he required a thorough response. This time, Jack wouldn't take no for an answer. With a sigh, the Doctor ran a hand through his hair and straightened his back, feeling a few vertebrae pop with the action; he'd been slumped over the artifact for too long.  
  
"Well, it's Gallifreyan in design." He pointed to the symbols. "The text here is proof enough of that. This swirling symbol here is the Symbol of Rassilon, who was once a great leader of my people. Usually, anything of great importance or significance was branded with his mark." His fingers hovered over the more modern Gallifreyan script. "And these… these are something entirely different. I've wracked my brain, trying to figure out if this phrase was ever repeated in Gallifreyan lore, but I'm sure I would have recognized it when I heard the phrase before…"  
  
"Are you saying," Martha joined them at the table. "That you've seen this before?" The Doctor looked thoughtful for a moment before answering.  
  
"In a way, I suppose I have, just not in my own language. Bad Wolf." Jack narrowed his eyes at the familiar words, but let the Doctor continue uninterrupted. "Darlig Ulv Stranden. Blaidd Drwg. Even Schlechter Wolf and Akuro. Hints that I thought were just fragments of messages left behind by her…"  
  
Jack laid a hand on the Doctor's arm. "Her? You mean Rose?" They heard Martha's quick intake of breath, but chose to not comment. "Did Rose send those messages? Did she send this?" He motioned to the fragment in question.  
  
The Doctor frowned. "Rose sent those messages back then to herself, yes. But this? This would link her to Gallifrey, and that's just impossible. Rose has never been to Gallifrey, and she never learned the language." Jack raised an eyebrow, not willing to accept the Doctor's excuse.  
  
"Yeah, but did Rose learn German? Welsh? Japanese? Norwegian? Granted, if she had, I'm sure she would have named that bay for a phrase that actually made sense. Honestly, ‘Sick Wolf Beach'?" Jack's momentary smile faded as he continued. "If Rose really became this Creature of Time, who eradicated the Daleks, resurrected me, and ended the Time War, surely she would have the ability to do this… don't you think?"  
  
The Doctor remained skeptical. "This just doesn't feel like something Rose would do. Sending me a piece of my own history?" He thumbed the smooth edge of the handle as a thought occurred to him. This was not the first time he'd come across an impossible fragment of a lost cosmic tool…  
  
"Doctor?" Martha's voice cut into his reverie. "Is this a weapon? Is it dangerous?" Good old Martha, always one step ahead of him. He smiled at her and shook his head.  
  
"No, Martha Jones, I don't think this has any destructive abilities. Still," he paused, looking thoughtfully at Jack. "Would you let me have it? I'm not sure what its purpose is, and I wouldn't want any inexperienced fingers prodding in places they shouldn't be."  
  
Jack gave a small laugh and nodded. "Yeah, sure thing Doctor. I don't think anyone around here is gonna miss it, what with all this other lovely junk laying around to categorize and dispose of. Besides, if anyone asks, I'll tell them UNIT disposed of it."  
  
Martha piped up. "And if anyone asks me, I'll tell them I never saw anything, just a bunch of Rift rubbish that someone _thought_ might be important. No big deal."  
  
The Doctor grinned at his two friends. They were willing to keep this quiet for him, and he appreciated it he just hoped they wouldn't get in trouble. He carefully wrapped the artifact with the soft cloth that Jack had been using to keep surface damage minimal, and tucked it under his arm.  
  
"Well then, I guess that's it. Places to go, people to see and all that." He patted the bundle, "And this little beauty to investigate." Jack laughed at that and gripped the Doctor on the shoulder.  
  
"Never could resist a mystery, could you Doctor? Still, I don't blame you, I'm not half-curious myself." He sobered and fixed the Doctor with an intent stare. "Let me know what you find out. Especially if it's-"  
  
The Doctor interrupted with a brief nod. "Yeah, I will." He turned to Martha. "And you… you take care of yourself. Don't let those UNIT stuffed shirts push you around too much." He winked, making Martha smile.  
  
"Course I will… and keep in touch, yeah? You still have that phone," She grinned. "So use it once in a while!"  
  
The Doctor gave her a jaunty salute. "Aye aye, ma'am!" He bounded over to the TARDIS, parked just a few meters away, and turned before going inside.  
  
Jack and Martha stood side by side by the examination table, Jack with his hands in the pockets of his pants and Martha with her arms crossed in front of her. The Doctor's eyes rested on each of them in turn, and he smiled. "Thank you," he murmured, not knowing if either of his friends heard, before entering his ship.  
  
As the TARDIS slowly dematerialized from view, Jack and Martha shook their heads turned to each other.  
  
"He thinks it's impossible, but I don't believe it. Rose knew what she was getting into when she absorbed the Time Vortex." Jack sighed and ran his hands through his short hair. "He still just can't believe that Rose would go to those lengths to protect and help him." Martha gave a soft snort of disbelief.  
  
"That… that _man._ " Her voice softened with a tinge of wistfulness. "Doesn't he realize that all of us would do the same thing…if we could?"  
  
Jack reached around Martha's shoulders and pulled her in for a brief, sideways hug. "He knows, Martha. He knows."  


* * *

  
  
He waited until the TARDIS was safely in the Vortex before placing the artifact on the console and un-wrapping it. His initial instincts were proving correct, that crystal rod before him wasn't just another bit of flotsam left over from the Time War. The most important bits of Gallifreyan technology were destroyed in the last battle to prevent them from falling into the wrong hands; however, this object looked too old, too carefully preserved, to have been just a bit of debris left over from the Razing of the Citadel.  
  
The Doctor picked it up, feeling the cool exterior and every crack, crease, and crevice in the material. The glassy exterior belied the object's true strength and power. There was, however, a wrongness to it, a feeling that, like the TARDIS, the object was trans-dimensional.  
  
He dug around in the toolbox for a minute before finding a more technologically advanced scanner and waited while the TARDIS processed the data. A jolt of recognition and a puzzled hum in his mind alerted the Doctor to his ship's results. As he took in the information on the screen, he felt as if the Vortex had, for a moment, disappeared.  
  
"No, no, it can't be," he whispered, unable to fully believe what the fragment was. "It shouldn't be possible." Yet it was.  
  
For the TARDIS' data banks had recognized the item's unique temporal and spatial signature, identifying it as the core and locating device of a cosmic artifact, an object created by the Time Lord Rassilon in alliance with the Guardians, so powerful and dangerous that it was broken into six fragments and scattered throughout the universe to prevent it from being used. Like its sister artifact, the Key to Time, the segments could be disguised in any shape or size, only reasserting its original shape when they came into contact with the detection device.  
  
The Key to Space.  
  
But, the Doctor mused, he didn't have another Time Lord telling him how to conduct the search, didn't have the White Guardian giving him the clues, and didn't have K-9 to analyze the data. He wasn't even sure what he'd do with the blasted thing once he retrieved all the pieces.  
  
He released a sigh of frustration and ran his hands through his hair, causing the strands to stick out at odd angles. "Still," he murmured, his eyes resting on the Gallifreyan writing that spelled out Rose's alter-ego, "someone out there wants me to try."  


* * *

  
  
Moments later, the TARDIS materialized on the front lawn outside of the Noble's home. The Doctor flung open the door and rushed out.  
  
"Donna! Oi, Donna!" He yelled, unaware of the strange looks being cast his way by the neighbors and passersby. "Donna, get your a-"  
  
" _As_ I was saying to mum, you really should watch your mouth, young man!" Donna came rushing down the steps, wiping her hands off on a dishtowel. "You must forgive him," she said calmly, nodding to a couple of the most disturbed witnesses. "Tourettes." She added with a sad smile and a pat on the Doctor's arm. The neighbors nodded in sympathy and went back to their respective duties. The Doctor looked slightly put out.  
  
" ‘Tourettes?' Donna, honestly, of all the-" He was cut off by a furious blur of red hair whipping around to show him his companion's rather red face.  
  
"Don't you 'honestly' me, you… you _alien!_ Who do you think you are, coming here and screaming for me like I was some kind of _beck and call girl_?!" Donna was suddenly in his face and the Doctor started to wonder if one of her slaps would send him straight into his eleventh body.  
  
"Uh, er, Donna, sorry about that." He scratched a sideburn, schooling his features to look properly chastised. "I didn't realize so many of your neighbors would be so _nosy_."  
  
Donna sniffed and stuck her chin out, apparently mollified. "Well, serves 'em right, sneakin' around here like they was better than us. Now," she fixed her gaze on the Doctor, causing him to start a bit, "what's so bloody important that you couldn't come and knock on my door like a normal person?"  
  
The Doctor refrained from stating that he wasn't exactly a bloke, deciding that tact was the best course of action. "I think I found something, no, well, I _know_ I've found something important and in order for me to find all the bits and bobs, we need to go now, so come on, come on!" He grabbed her arm and started to dash off towards the TARDIS, but Donna remained unmoving. Slightly confused, the Doctor turned back to see his friend looking at him with a strange expression.  
  
"It has to do with her, doesn't it," Donna said softly, a statement rather than a question. The Doctor pretended not to understand what she meant.  
  
"Her who? What? No, come on Donna, not a moment to lose!" He paused thoughtfully. "Although, being time travelers, we could lose moments and just go back and find them again." He grinned maniacally, but Donna remained firm. The Doctor sobered and shoved his hands into his pockets, almost defensively.  
  
"You know who I mean, Doctor. _Rose._ It has to do with her, doesn't it?" Donna knew this sudden appearance of the Doctor was out of the ordinary, but she wasn't going to let him lie to himself or her, for that matter. "Have you found a way to get her back?"  
  
The Doctor didn't say anything for a long moment before his expression relaxed and he shrugged. "Truthfully? No clue… Possibly... Well, Jack and Martha, they found this piece of something that had my people's writing on it. The TARDIS identified it as the core to an ancient Gallifreyian device known as the Key to Space. I'd never heard of it but," he looked contemplative for a moment before continuing. "Someone wants me to find all the pieces."  
  
Donna remained silent for a moment while she chewed on the side of her thumbnail. "You mean, someone out there placed that piece of that key thing in the right time, the right place, knowing you'd find it and know what it is?" The Doctor snorted.  
  
"Yeah, seems that way, doesn't it? And if the words _Bad Wolf_ are anything to go by…" Donna gasped softly; the Doctor had told her about Rose's brief time as the powerful creature. He continued, his voice soft and thoughtful. "Rose is the one that made sure I'd find it someday. I just don't know _why_."  
  
"Ugh, you may be alien, but you're still just a bloke at heart, aren't you?" Donna rolled her eyes dramatically and shook her head. "As much as I'd like to come with you so you can get me killed, I think this just might be something you need to do on your own."  
  
The Doctor started to protest, but Donna held up a hand to stop him. "No really, if this is all connected to your people, Rose, Bad Wolf, and goodness knows what else, don't you think it'll be easier without me in the way?" She crossed her arms and grinned. "I mean, when you look as gorgeous as I do, I _am_ a bit of a distraction." The Doctor laughed and pulled Donna in for a brief hug.  
  
"Donna Noble, you live up to your surname! What'll I do without you around to slap some sense into me?" He held her at arms length and gave her shoulders a squeeze, one hand coming back slightly damp due to the forgotten dishtowel. He decided not to make a show of wiping that hand on his trouser leg. Donna noticed anyways, but deigned to comment. "Finish your holiday with your mum, get a tan, and most of all," he winked cheekily. " _Behave_."  
  
Donna smacked his arm playfully and shoved him in the direction of the TARDIS. "Go on then, get on with ya." The Doctor saluted and disappeared inside. "Oh, and Doctor?"  
  
The Doctor poked his head out, eyebrows raised, "Yes?"  
  
Donna smiled, tugging the dishtowel off her shoulder and wringing it slightly between her hands in a brief show of nervousness. "Good luck."  
  
Distrusting his ability to speak, the Doctor merely flashed a brief smile and nodded, before closing the doors again. Moments later, the winds from the TARDIS' dematerialization died down and Donna was left facing an empty lawn. She shook her head and smiled to herself before turning around and going back into her house.  
  
Under her breath, she muttered, "Least he didn't make it snow this time!"  


* * *

  
  
Inside, the Doctor was already hard at work, modifying the console to connect the core of the Key to his ship's navigational systems. Currently, it looked like a bit of a rubber tube protruding slightly from the console, but aesthetics were the least of his concerns. He jammed the core of the Key into the tube and waited while his ship focused on the coordinates.  
  
A few moments later, the monitor displayed the TARDIS' findings. If the calculations were correct, the first piece of the Key was located somewhere on Earth in the year 2009. The strongest signal was coming from a small part of England, just outside of London. "Figures," he grumbled with a roll of his eyes. "Couldn't be anywhere more exciting, could it?"  
  
With a flip of a switch and a quick jab of the bicycle pump, the Doctor set the coordinates.  
  
For better or for worse, the search had begun.


	3. Crazy Love

"Hello dear, would you happen to have any books on alien conspiracies?" An attractive, older woman walked up to the counter, where Lawrence Nightingale sat reading the sports page of the local newspaper. He put the paper down, gave a sleepy blink, and called out to his partner.  
  
"Oi, Sally, where's that section on alien cover-ups again?" There was a loud rustle of paper from the back room before Sally Sparrow poked her head around the corner with a friendly smile.  
  
"Ah, sorry about that, it's on the third aisle, near the wall." The older woman smiled and walked off towards the section in question. Sally smiled kindly until the woman was out of hearing, then turned and smacked Larry on the shoulder with a rolled magazine.  
  
"Ow! What's that for?" Larry rubbed his shoulder, knowing that Sally wouldn't believe for a second she actually hurt him. Sure enough, she grinned and shook her head.  
  
"Larry, what am I gonna do with you? Couldn't you have helped that lady find what she needed yourself, without asking for me?" The old argument was a familiar one; after all, it had been nearly two years since Larry and Sally set up their bookstore in the same shop where Larry once rented out DVDs. They'd had their ups and downs, but it was a good life. One that Sally liked to think Kathy would be proud of her for having.  
  
"Well, Sally, you know I'm rubbish at remembering where everything is…" He trailed off realizing that he had lost Sally's attention. "Sally?"   
  
Her eyes were focused on someone standing outside, across the street from the shop. If the oddly fashionable clothing and the tousled hair didn't cause any recognition, the concentration of the man's gaze at a device in his hands did. Sally rushed from the shop, leaving Larry still sitting dumbfounded in her wake.  
  
"Doctor!" Sally noticed his head snapped up at his name, brows knitting together at the interruption. "Doctor, it is you, isn't it?" She crossed the street carefully and stopped in front of the man she'd only physically met once before. The Doctor looked at her for a long moment before his expression cleared and he grinned.  
  
"Sally, Sally Sparrow wasn't it? I forgot this was where I'd last met you! It's been a while, hasn't it? How've you been?" The Doctor didn't wait for a reply. "And that young man of yours, still around is he?"   
  
Sally grinned, brushing the hair away from her face. "Yeah, that'd be Larry. He helps me run the shop." She turned around and pointed at the sign above their door. "'Sparrow and Nightingale.' My mate Kathy came up with that, bless her." She looked sad for a moment, then shook her head and looked back at the Doctor. "So, Doctor, what brings you here?"   
  
The Doctor looked confused for a moment before a crackling sound emitted from the detector. He looked down, startled by the noise, and suddenly remembered his purpose for coming.  
  
"Ah, yes, well, I'm tracking this thing. It's very important, and I need to find it. Bad thing is," he scratched his chin, "could be anything, really. Bit of string, chunk of rock, a book, even a person. No telling where it is. But," he held up the crystal rod, "I've got this, and it's telling me that… hang on…" He twisted to the side and the noise grew louder. "It's telling me that the object is here, on this street." The Doctor's head jerked up and stared at Sally, who had been looking at him with her mouth hanging open. "It's right here."   
  
"What?"   
  
"Sally, it's in your shop."   
  


* * *

  
  
The door swung open, and Larry was reminded of an old American Western where the gunfighter pushed open the doors of a saloon and challenged someone to a gun battle. When no gunfighter emerged, just a skinny, oddly familiar bloke with too much hair, Larry tried not to feel overly disappointed.  
  
"Doctor, wait!" Larry brightened at Sally's voice; he'd been worried about her sudden flight from the store. But wait, _Doctor_?  
  
"It's right here, Sally Sparrow! My readings can't be wrong!" The Doctor held the detector device at arm's length, its loud crackling causing the other shop patrons to cover their ears and leave the store in a rush. Larry squelched his irritation at the Doctor for running off his paying customers, but then, it wasn't every day that the Doctor decided to visit. He stood up, brushed the crumbs from his sandwich off his trousers, and watched as the Doctor scurried around the shop, looking for… well, whatever he was looking for. He almost collided with Larry as his search took him to the entrance to the back room.  
  
"Oh!" The Doctor stepped back, startled. Apparently, he hadn't really been paying attention to anything outside of the sounds emitting from the device in his hands. "Oh, hello! Larry, wasn't it?" Ignoring Larry's gaping expression, he waved a hand towards the rear room. "Mind if I take a look?"   
  
Larry merely nodded and held the curtain back for the Doctor to duck under. Sally walked up and poked her partner in the side. Startled, Larry looked down at her.  
  
"What's that for?" He rubbed the tender area while Sally giggled.  
  
"Oh, just that I haven't seen that face since you walked by me at Kathy's flat those years ago. _Starkers_." She leaned into him as he unconsciously draped an arm around her shoulders. "We have him to thank, you know."   
  
Larry nodded. "Yeah, I know."   
  


* * *

  
  
He knew it had to around here somewhere; it was inevitable. Unfortunately, the segment was remaining out of sight.  
  
The Doctor turned over throw cushions and empty pizza boxes as he searched. "This place could use a day with Kim and Aggie," he muttered, steering clear of the dubious-looking piles of, well, whatever they were. The detector hadn't stopped crackling – something he would have to improve upon once he got back to the TARDIS. Maybe a 'vibrate' function would do the trick; the noise was almost unbearable.  
  
"Isn't there anything we could do?" Sally gingerly stepped around a stack of empty cardboard boxes. "You said this thing you're looking for could be anything?" Her face shifted from questioning to mortified when the Doctor held up a pair of boxer briefs.  
  
"Well, perhaps not quite _anything_ , per se." Sally snatched the underwear from the Doctor's fingers before he finished speaking and blushed, but the Doctor decided not to comment. "Probably something unusual, something you wouldn't normally have here? Perhaps a book that you wouldn't normally have in stock?" He flipped over discarded magazines and sweet wrappers, hoping that something would pop out at him.  
  
Sally stood for a long moment, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. Then her eyes widened with a sudden thought. "Oh, but it couldn't be….!" She carefully waded through piles of clothes and trash to a low bookshelf. "Oh come on, it's gotta be here somewhere," she muttered as she thumbed through a stack of various media. "Ah!"   
  
The Doctor heard her exclamation and hopped over an ottoman to join her. The device went nuts. The noise became deafening before the Doctor stuffed it into a trouser pocket to get some silence. "Did you find something?" he asked, his voice suddenly very loud in the silence left behind by the detector. Sally nodded and stood up with the item in her hands.  
  
"When I first saw you, Doctor, you appeared as an Easter egg on a DVD. Larry had been watching them, trying to make a transcript of your side of the dialogue. After Kathy disappeared and Billy… well, Larry and I started working on figuring out what that Easter egg was for." She chuckled and ducked her head. "I guess we got a bit closer than either of us anticipated." Sally looked up and the Doctor nodded, impatient for her to continue.  
  
"After it was all over, Larry and I… we sort of moved in together. A lot of my stuff mixed with his; some of it got lost, but the one thing that always seemed to turn up was this." She handed the object over to the Doctor. Giving Sally a thoughtful look, he turned it over to discover that it was a DVD. He looked back up, puzzled, and Sally grinned.  
  
"That's the DVD that saved us. The DVD with you and Martha. It's the same DVD that we put into the TARDIS to start the dematerialization sequence." She laughed. "We thought it was gone for good by that point, but when we started living here, it just turned up. We weren't sure if it was the same DVD or just another copy that Larry's old boss had lying around." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Whatever the case, it looks like the mystery is solved. It belongs to you."   
  
The Doctor stood silently for a long moment, looking at the DVD case. " 'Mark of the Wolf,' eh?" he whispered. "Looks like this is it." He turned it back over, and where the rating code would normally be was a holographic symbol of Rassilon. "Oh, this is just too weird," he muttered to himself.  
  
"Doctor? I'm right, aren't I? That's what you've been looking for," Sally asked, puzzled by the Doctor's behaviour. The Doctor gave her a half-smile and nodded.   
  
"Yup, this is it. Only thing is… I'm going to have to take it now."   
  
Sally just shrugged. "Hey, it brought us luck, Larry and me. I think it's your turn to have a little luck, Doctor."   
  
"Huh, maybe you're right." The Doctor stared at the DVD case in his hands for a long moment as if coming to some sort of conclusion. He sniffed loudly, stuffed the DVD into a coat pocket and flashed a broad smile. "Once again, Sally Sparrow, you've proved to be a fantastic sleuth."   
  
A few minutes later, the shop echoed with the sound of the TARDIS dematerializing. Larry looked up from the magazine he was reading, remembering the last time he'd heard that sound. Quietly, Sally came up from behind and wrapped her arms around his neck. Larry rubbed her arm, then turned to look at her.  
  
"He find what he was looking for then?" Sally shook her head and kissed him on the cheek.  
  
"I don't know that he found what he wanted, but I think he's on the right path." Her eyes finally focused on her partner's face and she grinned. "Let's close the shop early today."   
  
_Wherever you are, Doctor,_ Larry thought as Sally touched her lips to his, _thanks for everything._  
  


* * *

  
  
Once the Doctor safely took the TARDIS into the Vortex, he sat down on the jump seat with the detector device in his hands, inspecting it for any irregularities or controls that might help reduce the earsplitting volume on future trips. As he worked, he mused on the two humans he'd just left and how happy they seemed, regardless of their circumstances or their living situation. The slight squalor in which they conducted their daily lives, reminded the Doctor immediately of the proverbial pigs in shit.And yet, he knew that if he asked, they wouldn't want to change a thing.  
  
"Ah, to live a human life like that," he said aloud. "Well, I did once, but look what that got me. Can't say that I enjoyed the experience, stuffed into a pocket watch." Oh, but how he could lie to himself! Even though he was only John Smith for a short time, he remembered all too well how it felt to be free to love someone… and be loved in return.   
  
And while he could safely say that Joan Redfern held no emotional control over him now, there was one person he could very easily see repeating the experiment with.  
  
If only she were still here.  
  
 _Am I ever gonna see you again?  
  
You can't._  
  
The Doctor refrained from throwing the device across the room in pent-up frustration. _Why do I always think of you at the most inopportune moments?_ He put the device down in his lap as he massaged his temples. _Why do I still think of you at all?_  
  
 _Because you need me,_ came the reply.  
  
The Doctor leapt out of the seat, furious at the way his mind worked against him. It was even using _her_ voice to answer him now! It was insanity, the Doctor realized with a jolt. He humphed aloud. It was about time, really, considering everything.  
  
He leaned over the console and stared into the Time Rotor, watching the clear pistons move up and down gently as his ship hovered in the Vortex. He rubbed the glass fondly.  
  
"What do you think, old girl? Am I completely crazy?" She chirped happily and the Doctor chuckled. "Yeah, I thought so too." His eyes settled on the DVD case. "Well, might as well see if this is really what we think it is."   
  
The Doctor walked over to where the DVD case lay propped up against a lever and touched it with the end of the crystal rod in his hand. Moments later, a large, crystalline fragment appeared where the DVD case had once been. Not knowing whether to be overjoyed or disappointed, the Doctor sighed and crossed his arms in front of his chest.  
  
"Well, if I was skeptical before, I certainly have proof now." He sucked on his lower lip and raised his eyes to the ceiling. "What do you say, one more grand adventure through space and time?" The TARDIS hummed encouragingly as the Doctor slid the rod back into the hole in the console and started twisting the dials.  
  
After a few minutes, the results appeared on the screen. Apparently, the next piece of the Key was located somewhere in the Delta quadrant in the far future, from a small mining colony on the planet of Selva Six, mostly inhabited by humans and human allies. The Doctor input the coordinates and took a deep breath.  
  
"Well, here we go!"


	4. Borderline

For some reason, the miners on Selva Six didn't think it strange that a wooden blue box stood in the exact place where there had been a pillar of Silverite only hours before. Stranger things had happened on this planet, most of them thought, and who were they to question it?  
  
The Doctor, however, thought it strange that the curious nature of the humans on Selva Six was so subdued. Either something was wrong, or he just didn't have the same arresting presence as he used to. He preferred to think it were the former.  
  
He walked up to the closest miner, stooped to read the I.D. badge attached to his bicep, and pasted on a cheery smile.  
  
"Hello, uh, Trueth! I'm the Doctor. Mind telling me who's in charge here?" The Doctor assumed his most reassuring posture, hopefully neither frightening nor alarming the miner. Trueth rose from his bent position and futilely wiped the grime from his forehead before looking at the Doctor with a blank expression.  
  
"Oh, yes, you'll need to go see the Director. She'll be up in Base Two with the rest of the command unit." Before the Doctor could ask for any more details, Trueth had reassumed his crooked posture and started drilling more minerals from his niche in the caverns.  
  
"Oh, well, thanks then," the Doctor waved with a smile, then muttered under his breath, "Thanks for nothing, more like."   
  
As he walked off, Trueth paused, reached into his pocket and pulled out a communicator. Flicking a switch, he waited until the crackling noises died down before bringing the device to his face.  
  
"Trueth, Quadrant Eight to Base Two. Director, we have a visitor, over." The communicator buzzed with static before a female voice replied.  
  
"Base Two to Trueth, understood. Have Maresh and Daves bring him in. And be careful." The static crackled as communication ended, and Trueth pocketed the device before signaling two fellow miners over.  
  
A few meters away, the Doctor heard every word of the supposedly covert conversation and mentally rolled his eyes. As the two miners known as Maresh and Daves approached carrying their weapons, he sighed and put his hands in the air.  
  
"Look, I'm coming, no need for those," he glanced pointedly at the blasters in the men's hands. "Wanted to see the Director anyway, so looks like we have a win-win situation, yes?" He grinned in what he hoped would be a disconcerting manner, but his two "captors” barely flinched.  
  
"Move. Base Two is just over that ridge,” Maresh stated in a gravely, monotone voice. "You will not divert from the path."   
  
"No intention of it, boys!" The Doctor spun around and thrust his hands into his coat pockets, one hand wrapping securely around the sonic screwdriver. "Shall we?" Absently, he heard the crunch of gravel under the boots of guards and registered a quick whooshing sound just before pain blossomed from the back of his head.  
  
The Doctor just had time to curse his luck before the ground rose up to meet him and all went black.   
  


* * *

  
  
He was dreaming again.  
  
In recent months, during the few small hours that he closed his eyes and allowed his body to rest and repair itself, the Doctor had started having the most bizarre and disconcerting dreams. They weren't about aliens or destruction, they weren't even particularly frightening, but they did all have one thing in common.  
  
"What kind of mess have you landed in this time, Doctor?" The laughing voice came nearer, and the Doctor swore he could see her wide smile from the corner of his eye. He never dared to look straight at her, because somehow he knew she would disappear.  
  
He sat on a bit of driftwood, his bare feet buried into the soft, white sand of a familiar beach. The waves silently rolled in from the depths of the grey ocean, and if he concentrated, he could hear the call of gulls off the coast.   
  
"Oh, nothing much really. Seems humans stay the same distrustful creatures in any century." A flash of gold and a whisper of fabric made him aware of her presence beside him.   
  
"So,” she laughed, a sound that made his stomach flip and his hearts beat just a bit faster. "Thought you could stroll in, as you like, take over the situation, and have yourself a minor bump on the head for your troubles? Oh Doctor, you haven't changed at all." She leaned forward and for a moment, he saw the golden blonde wisps of her hair as the wind played through the strands. "Why don't you ever look at me?"   
  
"Because,” he whispered, his throat tight. "you're not real."   
  
A few moments of silence passed before he heard her sigh. "You're afraid. You're afraid of the possibilities." He could tell she had drawn her legs to her chest and was resting her chin on her knees. "How many times do I have to tell you? I'm never going to leave you."   
  
"I know." He drew a shaky breath and rubbed his hands over his face, smelling salt on his skin. "Oh Rose, it's impossible."   
  
"Impossible?" The sound of rustling followed his words and suddenly, a soft warmth was pressed against his side. Startled at the sensation, the Doctor turned his head, almost involuntarily, to meet the gaze of his companion. Rose smiled warmly and gently touched his cheek; he could feel the warmth of her skin even through that brief contact. "Anything is possible."   
  
_Rose_ … He closed his eyes and everything faded to white.  
  
It was time to wake up.  
  


* * *

  
  
"Doctor? _Doctor_?" A female voice was by his ear, calling his name. Familiar, but his fuzzy brain couldn't quite place the sound. "Of all the – I swear to you, someone is going to pay for their heavy-handed behaviour here. This man is the reason I am alive today!"   
  
A nervous man answered from a few feet away. "Yes, Director, I'll see that Maresh and Daves are reprimanded."   
  
The Doctor opened his eyes, his surroundings blurry as his eyes got used to the bright lights of the room. A face hovered over him, framed by wavy blonde hair. He blinked and her features swam into focus and the shock of who she was made him bolt up from the chaise where he'd been laying for the past few minutes.  
  
"You! Oh, look at you!" The Doctor grinned widely at the bemused expression on the woman's face. "Ida Scott! It's been years! Well,” he amended, rubbing the back of his neck. "Years for me maybe. How long's it been since we left Krop Tor?"   
Ida chuckled at the Doctor's enthusiasm. "You haven't changed much Doctor, still as full of energy as ever, I see." She rose from the side of the chaise, strode to the desk at the far end of the room and sat upon the edge. "It's been about four years, give or take a few months. And," her eyes twinkled with mirth. "I'm the Director of this base."   
  
"You're the – oh that's brilliant!" The Doctor beamed. "I was coming to see the Director! Look at you, moving up in the world, eh?" His mood shifted immediately, as if he just recalled why he was on Selva Six. "Ida, I'm looking for something. I've traced it to this planet, in this colony, but I'm going to need your help to find it." Ida nodded.  
  
"Whatever resources I have, they're yours." The Doctor smiled in gratitude, but quickly sobered.  
  
"Ida, those people, those miners… what's wrong with them?" Ida's face darkened and she turned away, looking out the large window near her desk to the miners below. She was silent for a long moment, then sighed.  
  
"We'd been on Krop Tor for so long. Zach, Danny and I, we were so out of touch with the Earth colonies that we'd missed a lot of important events. After you and Rose left, we reported our losses to our base – and discovered that there had been a revolution with the Friends of the Ood. Somehow, they'd found out the Operation's use of Ood as cannon fodder for the mining operation. After the Beast,” She shuddered for a moment before continuing. "The Friends gathered in protest, eventually blowing up part of the London Pentagon. They found out about our 'abandoning' the Ood to the black hole, and labeled the entire Conglomerate as Ood-hating war mongers." She put her forehead against the cool glass. "How little they understood the situation. Bloody hell, _I_ didn't even understand it, and I was part of it!"   
  
"So," the Doctor said quietly, joining Ida at the window. "The Friends pressed for liberation for the Ood." Ida swallowed and took a deep breath.  
  
"Yes. The Ood were freed, at least from human use. Realizing that they wouldn't be used on Earth or any Earth colonies, they left _en masse_ for other planets where their labor would be utilized. Humans were once again left to their own devices."   
  
"As they should be," the Doctor intoned, remembering Rose's indignation all those years ago.  
  
"But, we had become too dependent on cheap labor." Ida turned to face the Doctor, a weary expression on her face. "When we no longer had the Ood to abuse, we turned to our own kind." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "The poor, the needy, the illegal immigrant; we turned to them for our dirty work. It was twenty-first century politics all over again, only this time we knew what the consequences would be. And still no-one cared; we needed the labor too badly."   
  
"You turned your own kind into slaves." The Doctor's voice was low and ominous. "Those people down there, they have every right to happiness and freedom as you do, and yet they're no better than cattle in your eyes!" His eyes flashed with fury, something Ida remembered far too well. "Meanwhile, you sit up here with your fancy desk and your fancy assistants and your fancy coffee!"   
  
"Don't you see, Doctor, that's why I pushed to become Director. That's why we all did – Danny, Zach, Marta, Fletch… we remembered Krop Tor and the Ood, Doctor. We remember the loss and the pain and the fear." Ida looked up at the Doctor, hands out in a pleading gesture. "We all became Directors on our units so that at least _our_ workers would be treated fairly. Why else do you think those men down there showed such loyalty to me?"   
  
The Doctor was silent for a long while, putting some distance between himself and Ida while gazing over the mining colony. He had to admit, Ida had a point. The people below worked efficiently, and perhaps Trueth and the others had only been acting out of a sense of duty. They were tired, and probably resigned to a long, hard life of labor, but they looked well fed and in reasonably good shape. The Doctor nodded to himself and turned back to Ida, who was nervously fidgeting with a paperweight on her desk.  
  
"Yes, Ida Scott, I believe you are a good Director." When he smiled, he was pretty sure Ida let out a sigh of relief. "I sometimes don't see the big picture. Rose was good at that, but…" He trailed off, realizing he'd said something he shouldn't have.  
  
"Doctor, where is Rose? What happened to her?" Ida tilted her head, the past tense not escaping her notice. She remembered the young girl that had defended her friend so bravely, and often wondered if she and the Doctor were more than just the "stuff of legends." At the Doctor's expression, she realized she must have asked the wrong question. Ida began to apologize, but he waved her off.  
  
"No, don't apologize. Rose… well, something happened and I lost her." At Ida's gasp, he quickly explained. "No, she didn't die. She just…" He ran a hand through his hair, at a momentary loss for words. "She's not with me anymore."   
  
"I'm sorry." Ida laid a hand on his sleeve and gave his arm a squeeze. "I truly am. I know how much you meant to her… and her to you. I hope you find her again someday."   
  
"Yeah." He rubbed his nose and forced his expression back into something resembling happiness. "So, Director Scott, have your workers found anything unusual in the mines lately?" He pulled out his detector, which started crackling immediately. "This is telling me that what I'm looking for is here, on Selva Six. And,” he paused, turning around in place as the crackling grew louder, "it's in this very room."   
  
Ida frowned briefly, hands stalling their nervous fidgets, and looked down at the paperweight in her hand. "Just this." She held it out to him. "Maresh found it buried among chunks of Silverite. It was so unusual, we thought it might be something special. Our scientists couldn't make heads or tails of it, but since it proved not to be a valuable mineral, they gave it to me. It's sort of pretty and has a nice weight, so I kept it."   
  
The Doctor shoved the core into a pocket, took the object from Ida and turned it over in his hands. The outside was smooth, and it looked like tumbled stone. Flipping it to its underside, he peered at some markings. As his thumb rubbed away some of the dirt, a familiar symbol appeared. He looked up at Ida with glee.  
  
"Ida! This is it! It's been here the entire time, and we just didn't know it." He started to pocket the object and paused. "Do you mind if…?"   
  
Ida grinned and waved her hand. "Sure, go on. I can always get another paperweight. Besides, I owe you my life – seems only right I give you a silly rock." The Doctor chuckled, slightly embarrassed at Ida's words, but shoved the fragment into his pocket.  
  
"Well, I guess this is it. Give my regards to Zach and Danny if you talk to them again." He smiled and started to walk out of the room but was stalled by Ida's hand on his shoulder. He turned around to meet her gaze, and she gave him a lopsided grin.  
  
"I don't suppose you told Rose whatever it was you were trying to say that day, the day you fell down the pit?" The Doctor didn't respond, affirming Ida's guess. "I thought as much. Doctor, you once said that you believed that you hadn't seen everything yet. That you keep travelling to be proved wrong." She pulled him down for a quick hug and whispered in his ear. "Don't forget that. You'll see her again, I'm sure of it."   
  
The Doctor pulled away, and Ida could have sworn she saw the shimmer of tears in his eyes; but then he blinked and it occurred to her that it may have just been her imagination. He turned abruptly and left, before Ida could say anything else.  
  
Shaking her head, she went back to her desk and flopped down in her chair. After eyeing the telecom on her desk for a good five minutes, she picked it up and turned a dial. A sharp crackle of static blasted from the speaker to be replaced by a smooth voice.  
  
"Base Eight, Director Crossflane speaking." Ida's lips curved into a warm smile.  
  
"Hello, Zach. It's Ida. You'll never guess who was just here…"   
  


* * *

  
The Doctor bounded into the TARDIS and set her off into the Vortex before pulling the paperweight out of his pocket, setting it next to the previous fragment. With a tap of the core, a crystal replaced the stone. The pieces gave a radiant glow for a moment, as if in recognition. He crossed his arms, nibbling on the side of his thumb for a moment in contemplation.  
  
"Right, next piece then." He inserted the detector into its place on the console once again, waiting for his ship to determine the coordinates. A bleeping that cut through the silence indicated that the next fragment had been found, on Earth again, but the exact location unnerved the Doctor.  
  
"London, _2006_?" This was _not_ good. The third segment lay in a city and time where it was all too easy to cross his own time stream. "And Rose's,” he muttered darkly. He would have to be very careful, and stay far away from the Powell Estates and Canary Wharf.   
  
"At least it's not Cardiff." The TARDIS hummed at the back of his mind, whether in agreement or in reproach, he didn't know. "Well, let's get to it, shall we?" He patted the console with one hand while he input the coordinates with the other. With a hint of excitement, he realized that there were only four more pieces to the Key left to find. The excitement quickly diminished when the question of what to do in the end resurfaced.  
  
It was a question he would hopefully have the answers to soon enough.


	5. Everyone Says Hi

The Doctor opened the door to the TARDIS, hoping beyond hope that he wasn’t anywhere near the Powell Estates. As much as he’d love to sneak a peek, he didn’t relish encountering any Reapers in this regeneration - once a century was quite enough.  
  
What he didn’t anticipate was opening the door to a face full of semi-automatic weapons.  
  
"Ah." He raised his hands automatically, aware that the gesture was becoming far too familiar with this journey. "Gentlemen, to what do I owe this pleasure?"  
  
A tall, stocky man approached, every mannerism screaming military training. "We have identified you as the Doctor, sir. You are to come with us."  
  
The Doctor, in a display of courage that belied the feeling of uneasiness he suddenly had, grinned and stepped out of the TARDIS. "Well, who am I to turn down such a generous offer? Lead on, good sir!" A younger officer grabbed his arm, none too gently, but the Doctor refrained from voicing his indignation; these men were far too nervous to be considered safe. And the best thing to do would be to play along for the moment.  
  
The soldiers pushed him headfirst into a canvas-covered Land Rover. Moments later they were traveling along a bumpy road, every dip in the pavement causing each passenger to grimace as they jostled along. Far too many minutes passed before the vehicle stopped and the canvas pulled aside. The same stocky officer pulled the Doctor out once again, a little rougher than was necessary and the Doctor stumbled, getting reacquainted with the bright sunlight. He turned, rubbing his sore and overly jostled bottom. “So, where are we then?”   
  
The officer stared blankly at him, before he pointed to his right. The Doctor followed his motion, and let out a shaky laugh. "Ah. Number Ten Downing Street. Brilliant."  
  


* * *

  
  
It was bloody typical, the Doctor realised. Not only was he apparently going mad and hearing Rose’s voice in his head while he was very definitely awake, but now he was also seeing (and feeling) her. And she’d only gone and got him back in Harriet Jones’ office once again. "What next," he muttered under his breath. "Blon Fel Fotch come to wish me Happy Birthday?"  
  
They came to a stop outside of the familiar double doors, waiting for the signal to enter. The tall, stocky officer, General Bridges, was communicating with his superior on a two-way, while the other soldiers escorting him stood stock-still. Finally, General Bridges gave a curt nod and motioned for the other soldiers to move away.  
  
"You will enter, Doctor. The Prime Minister wishes to see you." General Bridges opened the door and stepped aside. The Doctor swallowed, uncertain for once how exactly to proceed.   
  
It had been a long time for him since Harriet Jones gave the order for Torchwood to destroy the Sycorax ship; he’d had years to rethink her decision, years to realize that perhaps Britain and Earth would have been better off with her in office rather than an insane Time Lord. But just because he’d had time to cool down didn’t mean Harriet Jones had; in fact, he was pretty sure that she planned on having him arrested – or worse.  
  
The Doctor stepped forward into the room, noting that Harriet hadn’t changed much of the décor during her tenure. He glanced around briefly, the eyes closing against the memories flooding to the surface.  
  
 _I could save the world but lose you._  
  
"Do you remember Doctor, the first time we met here, so long ago?" The Doctor’s eyes snapped open to see Harriet Jones standing with her back to him, gazing out of a window. "We saved the world, or so we thought. Lives were lost, but it was all for the greater good." She finally turned, a glass of sherry in one hand. "Why was it so easy to dismiss the losses of that day and yet so hard to reconcile months later when we saved the world again?"  
  
The Doctor shifted, unsure if he should offer comfort or truth. "It’s never supposed to be easy to disregard the loss of life." He shook his head and thrust his hands into his trouser pockets. "I don’t know exactly what to say, Harriet Jones, other than I am sorry. So very sorry."  
  
Harriet shook her head and motioned for the Doctor to take a seat, then joined him at the table. She offered a drink; when he refused, she poured herself another glass and sighed. "I’m not sure what I want from you, Doctor. I don’t think either of us were in the right on Christmas day, but I had to do something." She swallowed another mouthful of sherry and looked at him with tired eyes. "It was expected of me."  
  
The Doctor leaned forward on his elbows. "I know. I know how that feels." Harriet gave him a weak smile. "It was wrong of me to condemn you all those y- all that time ago, and if it’s any consolation…" Harriet waved a hand at him.  
  
"No Doctor, you don’t need to apologize. Not to me. That’s not why I had the military monitoring for any chance of your return. Doctor, I think you and Rose are in danger."   
  
He raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, willing for her to continue. She did. "When I became Prime Minister, I didn’t realize how much information I would be privy to, things that even UNIT didn’t fully know about. Things like-"  
  
"Torchwood," the Doctor spat out, cutting off Harriet’s explanation. She nodded.  
  
"Yes, Torchwood. The longer I’ve stayed in office, the more I learn about that organization. Doctor, are you aware that Torchwood was established to protect Britain against your return to our shores?"  
  
The Doctor’s face did not betray his emotions; of course he knew now about Torchwood’s founding purpose, now that Rose was gone and hundreds of people had been killed in the battle at Canary Wharf. But that was not part of Harriet Jones’ history - it was in her future.   
  
"Doctor, are you all right?" Harriet touched him briefly on the wrist, the contact jolting him from his thoughts. He gave her a falsely bright smile.  
  
"Of course, Harriet Jones, I’m always all right."  
  
Harriet was silent for a long moment, the Doctor shifting uncomfortably under her scrutinizing gaze. He suspected that any moment she would take in his worn-out suit, the fatigue in his eyes, and the sad, tired slump of his shoulders, and wonder at their cause. A few moments later, her eyes widened and she gave a small gasp of realization.  
  
"Doctor," she began softly. "Where is Rose?" She didn’t miss the flinch in his expression. "What happened to Rose?"  
  
The Doctor didn’t answer, only sat staring at a smudge on the surface of the glossy table. He reached out and rubbed at it with his thumb.   
  
"Doctor, you didn’t seem surprised when I told you about Torchwood. Could I venture a guess and say that you’re not from this time?" When he gave a faint nod, she sighed. "I see. Then you must have already met with Torchwood in your past. I am sorry."  
  
"Me too," he whispered. The Doctor took a deep breath and ran his hands over his face, silently hoping that Harriet would prove smart enough not to ask any more questions about his past. He looked back up to see Harriet staring at him with a strange expression on her face. After a few moments, she seemed to come to some decision and rose, walking over to a cabinet and taking something from inside it.  
  
"I debated for some time about what I should do with this." She returned to the table and laid a sealed packet in front of him. "To be honest, Torchwood scares me, Doctor. And if they had this valuable information, I’m not sure what could happen." Harriet looked him in the eye. "I’m not going to lie to you, Doctor. If the head of Torchwood found out I gave you this, I could be in serious trouble. But," She gave him a warm smile. "I trust your judgment more than theirs. I don’t want this falling into the wrong hands." She pushed the packet towards him. "Take it."  
  
The Doctor pulled the packet closer and ran his hands over it before flipping it over and sifting through the contents. He was shocked and dismayed at what Harriet had given him: diagrams and schematics for terrible weapons, chemical formulas for alien plagues and diseases, catalogs of information on hundreds of species that had visited Earth in the past. Perhaps most disturbing were the papers at the back of the package – a series of photographs, taken from various CCTV cameras around London, following himself, Rose, Jackie and even Mickey over the past Earth year. He looked back up at Harriet in disbelief.  
  
"Where did you get this?" He motioned to the photographs he’d strewn about the table. Harriet smiled slightly.  
  
"I have an insider in Torchwood, someone I trust implicitly. He makes sure that the most dangerous findings, the most hazardous information for the Earth’s future conveniently ‘disappears’ while I make sure no one gets too nosy about his past." She folded her hands neatly in front of her. "He told me he knew you once, even traveled with you and Rose. Seems you have friends in high places, Doctor."  
  
The Doctor gave a small, sad smile at the comment. There was no mistaking who Harriet Jones was speaking of. He placed the papers back into the envelope, saving the photographs of Rose for last. Harriet noticed the action, but didn’t comment; she knew heartache when she saw it and figured the Doctor deserved a little privacy on the matter. With a sigh she leaned towards him.  
  
"So, tell me Doctor, what brings you to London these days, if you had no other… reason to visit?" The Doctor looked up at her with a dazed expression, then leapt suddenly to his feet, nearly knocking his chair over with the unexpected movement.   
  
"Ah, yes! I came here to look for something, an object that is part of a puzzle of sorts." He pulled the tracer from his pocket, which started crackling with urgency. "Huh."  
  
"‘Huh?’ What is that for?" Harriet stood, wincing as the crackling noise got louder as she approached the Doctor. The Doctor’s eyes shifted from the glass detector in his hands to Harriet and back again with increasing dread.  
  
"It seems that what I’m looking for is here in this room," he explained, trying to ignore the increased noise when Harriet reached his side. "In fact, it seems to be right next to me."  
  
Harriet raised an eyebrow. " _I_ am next to you, Doctor." At her words he looked at her with something akin to pity.  
  
"Yes, I know. I’m sorry, Harriet Jones. This won’t hurt a bit." The Doctor reached up and tapped Harriet on the head with the tracer.   
  
Nothing happened.  
  
He stared at Harriet with his mouth agape. Harriet stared back, trying to fight back a laugh. "And what exactly was supposed to happen?"   
  
The Doctor looked flabbergasted. "I thought – well, if you were the next fragment, you should have disappeared!" He stared at the tracer as if it held all the answers, and then waved it over Harriet’s body like an airport security guard. The crackling noise grew louder every time he passed over her torso.  
  
"Doctor, would you kindly explain what you are looking for instead of treating me like a flight security risk?"   
  
When she crossed her arms over her chest, the crackling sound subsided, and the Doctor grinned knowingly. "Harriet, would you mind if I took a look at your ID badge?"  
  


* * *

  
  
A few moments later, they were both standing outside the TARDIS, surrounded by a full military guard. Harriet shook her head in amused disbelief while the Doctor carefully wrapped the third crystalline segment of the Key in a handkerchief and tucked it into his coat pocket.  
  
"I just had that badge remade, too." She laughed. "I suppose it’ll give the staff something to do with their time."   
  
The Doctor smiled, knowing that she wouldn’t need a badge in a few months’ time, but he figured it best to keep that knowledge to himself. "I’m sure they’ll do a bang-up job."   
  
Harriet grinned, and then stepped forward to give the Doctor a farewell hug. "Take care of yourself, Doctor. Whatever happened, I’m sure things will work out in the end."  
  
The Doctor didn’t respond, giving Harriet a brief squeeze before releasing her and making a big show of patting down his pockets. "Right, got everything then. I guess I’ll be off now."  
  
Harriet nodded and placed a hand on his arm. "I meant what I said, Doctor. I do trust you." She let her hand fall back to her side. "The world, no, the whole _universe_ needs you Doctor. If we can’t learn to trust you, what hope do we have?"  
  
The Doctor looked at her for a long moment. “I will always try my best to protect this planet. But,” he put a hand on her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze, “learn to have faith in your own abilities, Harriet Jones. Don’t rely on aliens and space travelers to fight your battles. Sometimes, you humans are more brilliant, more outstanding than any other race in the galaxy, simply because of your honest compassion for others.” He smiled lopsidedly. “A mere shopgirl helped me remember that. I think it’s only fair that I pass that along.” He gave Harriet one more brief hug, then turned and disappeared into his ship.  
  
Harriet watched the TARDIS dematerialize, rubbing her arms against a sudden chill.  
  
"Godspeed, Doctor, and good luck."  
  


* * *

  
  
New coordinates had been found, the Time Rotor gently pulsing with movement through the Vortex, and the monitor’s display scrolled by with information. The Doctor sat on the jump seat, eyes unfocused, sight turned inward, with one of the blurry CCTV photographs of Rose clutched in his hand.  
  
He was scared of the possibilities, and he knew it. He’d never been very good at admitting he was wrong, and it seemed that this situation was not about to change that tendency.   
  
"I’m not meant for this," he murmured. "These tools were forbidden for use by any one being."  
  
He snorted quietly to himself. He was a coward. He could almost see her trembling smile in front of him and her voice, calling out to him: ‘Don’t you want us to travel together again?’  
  
"Oh, yes," he breathed, some part of him aware that he was talking to a figment of his abused mind. He didn’t care. "Yes, I’d love that."  
  
His eyes refocused, glancing down at the photograph in his hand. He brushed his fingers over the image of Rose’s face and smiled.  
  
Perhaps the universe was giving him a second chance. It was up to him to take hold of it and not let go.  
  
He just hoped that when the time came, he could make the right decision.


	6. Where Have All the Flowers Gone?

It was the 11th of November 1920, two years to the day after the Great War ended.   
  
The continent had been devastated - bombed, burned and raided - and yet, through the rubbish and the debris, life began again. The same was true for this particular part of the English countryside.  
  
Joan Redfern stood at the top of a hill, overlooking the ruins that were once the grounds of the Farringham School. She rubbed her arm, annoyed with the sharp pain caused by a long, jagged scar she received from her Red Cross days during the Battle of the Somme. It was just another reminder of all that had been lost during that dreadful, terrifying war.  
  
As she gazed out over the landscape, Joan was heartened to see that, even though the Family had destroyed the school she once called home, the debris was slowly being covered over with fresh, green grass and wildflowers. It wouldn’t be long before people were singing songs about this sort of thing. Though death and destruction had reigned throughout England and Europe for a few long years, life and rebirth would always prevail.  
  
Clutching a small, leather-bound book and a large blanket, Joan picked her way down the hill, wary of stepping in any holes or stumbling over any old discarded artillery casings leftover from the boys' practice range. To much of the outside world, Farringham School was just a strange relic of a simpler time, unexplainably razed to the ground months before the true battles began in Europe. No one could explain why the school and the surrounding village had been destroyed long before Archduke Ferdinand was assassinated; most of the village people had explained it away as a fluke, a pre-emptive strike by the Kaiser in order to dishearten British troops prior to their involvement in the trenches. No one thought to question that assumption, and most people turned a blind eye to the obvious discrepancies in that explanation. It suited their worldview, and thus it was presented as fact.  
  
Furthermore, those who had experienced the true cause of Farringham’s destruction were either no longer in the area or had been killed, be it during the destruction of 1913 or later in the War. The only survivors of Farringham left were herself and an old Crimean veteran whose talk of strange weapons and lights in the sky had been dismissed as senility. Of the 135 students enrolled at Farringham, only a handful lived to see the end of the War.  
  
Joan found a good, level spot on the ground and spread out the blanket to sit upon. Her neighbors asked her once why she’d come down to the old ruins on Armistice Day; she’d simply replied that she wanted to remember all she had lost.  
  
The simple truth was she desperately wanted to forget, but could not.  
  
She closed her eyes and saw frightening images; underneath the horrors she witnessed in France lay deeper scarring – the terrified young boys holding guns larger than they were, the ghastly animated scarecrows, and through it all, the frantic, scared, beautiful face of John Smith.  
  
No, _the Doctor_. Joan shook her head and sighed. Even after seven years, it was hard to think of the man she’d known as the Doctor. John Smith was every girl’s dream - sweet, gentle, understanding. It had been so easy, so effortless, to fall in love with him. A part of her loved him still, even after the dreadful events of that night so long ago.  
  
But the Doctor was another sort of man entirely, one whose heart –or was that indeed _hearts_ as he once told her? - she now knew belonged to another. Joan stroked the worn leather cover of the book in her lap before opening it, and began to read.  
  


* * *

  
  
 _October 12. She stood before me, again, her blonde hair obscuring her face for a moment before she pulled it away. Her clothes were so immodest, and yet they suited her. Not like a harlot – there is still something innocent about her, despite her made-up face and fitted clothing._  
  
She is talking to me, as though I were somehow not really there – we cannot touch, but I can feel my fingers longing to stroke her cheek. She is crying, like she always is, and I feel my chest get tighter and tighter: why is this happening?  
  
My fault. I know her weeping is my fault somehow, as though I am the one who has caused her this pain. I wish I could fix it all, but she shakes her head, as though she knows of my guilt and wishes to relieve me of it. I realize now that the feeling in my chest is love. So much love for this tiny, insignificant girl.  
  
She’s urgent now, telling me about a key that can unlock all doors, something she remembers from the time when she was golden. Although her words are meaningless and random upon waking, when I heard with the Doctor’s ears, I understood.  
  
I ask her what I’m supposed to do with such a key, and all she can explain is that I’ll know once I have it. And that she’ll be waiting.  
  
When I wake, with tears on my face, I can’t remember feeling so desperately lonely and yet so hopeful at the same time.  
  
Part of me wants to never have that dream again… but another just as demanding part of me hopes I will.  
  
October 15. Trying to remember everything before I forget. Rose came to me again; this time she did not cry. She was being brave, but I could tell she was frightened. Something about her world disappearing, and that I must hurry. I don’t know what to do; I can tell she realizes that I am at a loss for words. Something about this dream is more real, more urgent than the previous. I am desperate to hold her, to reach out, but she backs away, saying that the lines between our worlds are already too fragile, that I must stay back.  
  
There are lines in her face that weren’t there before, and something about the way her image before me flickers frightens me, like a candle’s flame quivering under a soft breeze.  
  
I know that whatever I do, I must help her before her image disappears completely.  
  
I awoke to the sound of my own voice repeating the same word over again. No no no no no no no…  
  


* * *

  
  
Joan looked up, out over the grassy terrain, with tears in her eyes. Even though she knew that John had loved her, it was painfully obvious that while he dreamed of his life as the Doctor, he loved the girl named Rose with a desperation that only rivaled some of her most inner fantasies.  
  
She blotted her damp cheeks and closed the book, not wanting any of her tears to blur his handwriting. Joan was so lost in thought that she did not hear the footsteps behind her until a soft voice spoke.  
  
"Hello, Joan."  
  
Her head jerked around and there he stood, lanky lines framed by a suit many years away from being fashionable.  
  
The Doctor.  
  
Her mouth dried - never in a hundred years had she thought she would see him again. She remembered some of the last words they shared and flushed with shame. To hear him say her name with such affection broke her heart. She knew that she would never again feel the warmth of his embrace like she had all those years ago.  
  
Joan gathered her wits and stood to face him at full height, not caring that her full height only came to his shoulder. She had faced angry army captains, dying boys, and a battalion of red-faced German soldiers. She didn’t survive all that only to quail under the gaze of one man, even if it was the Doctor.  
  
"Hello." She spoke in clipped tones, ones she reserved for the more hostile patients on the battlefield. "Come to see what is left?" A part of her was aware she was being cruel, but the hurt had not dissipated over the years, the scars of war only the physical manifestations of the scars in her heart.  
  
The effect was immediate; any softness, any compassion in the Doctor’s face fled in the face of her harsh words. He broke eye contact and stepped away, his gaze now focused on the field where the school once stood.  
  
"I’m looking for something, Joan." He spoke suddenly, realizing he owed her an explanation for his sudden reappearance. "If I thought for a moment that I could avoid… could spare you this, I would." He looked back over at her, his eyes dark and fathomless. "I didn’t want to cause you more pain."  
  
Joan took a step back and nearly tripped over the edge of the fabric. The Doctor darted forward and grabbed her arms to keep her from falling.   
  
The contact undid her. Dropping the journal to the ground, Joan gripped his sleeves as she regained her footing, her face a display of warring emotions that she tried desperately to keep in check. She knew he didn’t love her, and knew even more than _she_ should not love _him_.  
  
Yet, with infinite gentleness, the Doctor brushed a fallen tendril of hair away from her face and smiled sadly. "There, there," he said, his tone laced with affection.  
  
It was all Joan could do to keep from bursting into tears like a silly teenaged girl.   
  
Instead, her knees gave out. The Doctor helped to lower her to the blanket, before he folded his long limbs to sit beside her. She took a long moment to compose herself and looked up to find him watching her with an oddly detached look on his face.  
  
"What?" She queried, caught by his gaze. The Doctor sighed and reached into his inner coat pocket, pulling out a long, slender glass instrument. It started making an odd crackling sound. He held it out to her with his palm up, as an offering.   
  
"I’m looking for a part of something that I lost," he spoke softly as Joan took the rod in her hand, wondering at its strange weight and feel. "That tracer in your hand was designed to help me find it."  
  
Joan ran a finger over the strange carvings in the handle and handed it back to the Doctor, who returned it to his coat pocket. The crackling noise ceased almost immediately. "And what, pray, are you looking for that brings you back here?" She looked up at him with curiosity.  
  
"I have a hunch," the Doctor said with a small grin. "And Rassilon help me, I might just be right."  
  


* * *

  
  
When the Doctor first saw his next destination, it felt like the floor of his ship had disappeared. He had never intended to return to that part of England, especially so close to when he’d last been there. He knew that he had no idea what to do should Joan Redfern ever cross his path again, or indeed any of the people he came to know while he played Human. The miniscule part of him that was still John Smith railed against his mind, demanding to be allowed a second chance.   
  
But like he said to Rose so long ago, he was the kind of man who didn’t give second chances. Why should he when the universe deigned to give him one? Yet, if the goal of finding all of the fragments of the Key to Space was having a second chance at a life with Rose, could he really afford not to give Joan the opportunity for closure?  
  
As he set off down the hill, tracer crackling louder with every step, he thought of a million and two reasons why he should turn around and head back into the Vortex. He didn’t do all of this revisiting stuff that his hunt was turning out to be. Seeing Jack and Martha again, well, that wasn’t a big deal. And he didn’t mind meeting up with Sally and Larry since he hadn’t really had the chance to know them before.  
  
When his search had led him to Harriet Jones, he knew that this was more than just a series of random times and places. Someone made sure that the fragments were scattered in just the right places, with the right people. It had Bad Wolf written all over it once again. She was forcing him to confront the memories of his past, events that had either been painful or steeped in meaning.   
  
But this - seeing Joan Redfern, the love of his human life - was going to be so very difficult.   
  
When he spoke to her, and Joan turned around as if hearing a ghost, he realized this wasn’t exactly going to be easy for her either.  
  
Now they sat, side by side overlooking the blackened and crumbling remains of Farringham, silent but for the slight chirping of insects in the tall grass. The Doctor noticed that Joan kept lightly brushing her fingers over the book she’d been reading when he approached, and a memory tickled the back of his mind.  
  
"That book…" He gestured towards it as Joan looked up with a nervous expression. "I remember it. Wasn’t it my…" He trailed off as he noticed Joan clutch it to her chest with possessiveness.  
  
"It was John’s," she whispered, half frightened that the Doctor would try to force it from her. "It was his journal. He wrote down his dreams in it." The Doctor raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Dreams? I honestly don’t recall any dreams. May I?" He put out a hand and, very reluctantly, Joan relinquished her hold on the book. He thumbed through it quickly, eyes only scanning the pages. "Fascinating! It seems as if John remembered things in dreams that only I had done. And look!" He pointed a finger at a blurry blob of ink with a strange plunger protruding from its side. "A Dalek! He even remembered its name."  
  
Joan remained silent while he skimmed through the book, looking for anything that seemed out of the ordinary. After a few moments, the Doctor’s fingers stilled over the pages, and he looked up with bright eyes.  
  
"Joan, how much of this book have you read?" He leaned forward, so near she could see his pupils dilate. "This is very important, I need to know."  
  
Joan let out a shaky breath. "Only about halfway. I’d skimmed it before when you- I mean, when John let me borrow it, but I only started seriously reading while I was in the Somme." She ducked her head, but not before the Doctor saw a glimmer of tears. "Sometimes, it was the only reprieve I had from the bloodshed." The Doctor crooked a finger under her chin and forced her to meet his eyes.  
  
"I need to know because there are things I wrote in this book that no one should know. Not yet." He smiled to soften his next words. "Especially not you, Joan." Joan looked up sharply.  
  
"John… he wrote about the future, didn’t he?" When the Doctor didn’t reply, she nodded slowly. "Yes, of course. One mustn’t be privy to events to come." Joan sighed and met the Doctor’s gaze. "I guess this means I have to give this up, doesn’t it?"  
  
He looked down to the book resting between Joan’s hands. He didn’t want to leave Joan without anything to remember John by, and yet to leave the journal could and would prove disastrous. With infinite care, he took the journal from her and thumbed through the pages before stopping on one image in particular.  
  
"I can still feel his love for you, you know," he said with a sort of awe. He traced his fingers over an image he’d once created. "Just because I’m a different man doesn’t mean I can’t feel the same things he did."  
  
"I know," Joan replied, her voice steady despite her inner turmoil. "I know you’re capable of love, Doctor, because of that journal." At his glance, she gave him a sad smile. "Even though John only dreamed about your life, he still remembered who you loved. It was always _her_ , that girl in your dreams."   
  
She chuckled, surprised at her ability to do so in front of this man she’d hated and feared for so long. "You once called this your ‘journal of impossible things’. " She dared to reach over and laid a hand at his wrist. "After my husband died, I thought it was impossible to love again. You, John, showed me that nothing is impossible where the heart is concerned." She lowered her hand to the open page and traced over Rose’s features with a fingertip. "Isn’t it about time that you learned that for yourself?"  
  
The Doctor stared at the page for a long time, silently mulling over Joan’s words. How many people over the past few days said the exact same thing? It was almost annoying, but a small part of his mind was starting to agree with the repeated phrase. Is nothing truly impossible?  
  
 _Where there’s a will,_ that small, familiar voice in his mind said. _There’s always a way._  
  
"I think you should read that journal yourself, Doctor." Joan’s low voice broke his reverie and he refocused his attention on her face. "There may be something in your dreams that you need to know." She sat back, putting her hands in her lap and looking back over the countryside. "My small mind couldn’t understand it. The words you used were so complex they were like a foreign language." Joan looked at him from the corner of her eye. "It will probably make far more sense to you than it ever would to me."  
  
The Doctor nodded absently, gazing unseeingly at the image of Rose’s face. In a sudden flurry, he flipped through to the end of the book, thumbing through pages until he reached the one he wanted. To Joan’s shock, he ripped the page out and handed it to her, almost shyly.  
  
"I think he would want you to have that. Well," he drawled as she took the page from his fingers, her eyes glowing with comprehension, "bollocks to him, I want you to have that."  
  
Joan ran her fingers over the portrait John had drawn of her, so very long ago, and tried desperately not to weep. She looked back up at the Doctor, her eyes shining. "Thank you," she said shakily, her voice no louder than a whisper.  
  
The Doctor nodded once and rubbed his nose, which he had the distinct feeling looked suspiciously red. "Well, I best get a move on, I have something to find and I feel like I’m running out of time." He rose to his feet, dusting off his backside as he stood and stretched his arms above his head. He paused, stunned, at Joan’s next words.  
  
"A piece to the Key?" Joan nearly fell back when the Doctor swiftly dropped to his knees and grabbed her shoulders.  
  
"Key? Who told you about that? How did you know I was looking for the Key to Space?" His eyes flashed a warning, but Joan hesitated before answering.  
  
"I… I read about it, just now, before you arrived. You, John, whoever, dreamed about it and he wrote it down." She gestured towards the book lying on the blanket. "It’s all in there. I don’t really understand it, but I daresay you will."  
  
The Doctor released her, taking a shaky breath while he ran a hand through his fringe. "Good old John Smith dreamed about the Key, eh?" he muttered, picking the journal up again and stuffing it into his jacket. He glanced over to Joan, who was doing her best to keep from looking frightened by his odd behavior. "Ah, sorry about that. I tend to get… a little overexcited sometimes."  
  
 _That’s an understatement,_ Rose’s voice teased from the depths of his mind. He could almost see her smile, tongue running over the edge of her front teeth.  
  
He really needed to stop his conscience sounding like her.   
  
Joan recovered quickly and stood, tugging the blanket from his feet as he rose, and folded it into a neat square. "There is nothing to apologize for, Doctor. You came here for a reason, and now you have even more reason to complete your task." She stuffed the blanket under her arm and gently tucked the portrait into a pocket at her breast. The placement was not lost on the Doctor, who smiled at the gesture.  
  
"Yes, well, I suppose I must be off then." He pulled out the tracer, which started crackling with renewed intensity. He stared at it for a moment, and moved it around, finally facing the direction of the old school. "I think what I’m looking for must be down there in the rubble."   
  
The Doctor started to move forward, but Joan stalled him with a touch to his elbow. "Wait, I’ll come with you." At his raised eyebrow, she gave a soft laugh. "Hasn’t anyone told you that most things are better done with two?"  
  
The Doctor laughed all the way down the slope of the hill.  
  


* * *

  
  
"And what, pray tell, are we looking for exactly?" Joan muttered, ducking under a fallen beam as the Doctor picked his way around scattered tables and overturned chairs.  
  
"Oh, that’s the problem with this Key… could look like anything really," he called back, holding the rod out at arms’ length. "Something out of the ordinary, I’d say. A bit of rock you’ve never seen before or a book you don’t remember reading."   
  
As he searched, he nearly stumbled over something on the floor; upon inspection, it turned out to be some poor child’s stuffed bear toy. The Doctor dusted it off and set it upon a desk, running the tracer over it. "Could even be this poor creature."  
  
Joan gingerly stepped around a pile of soggy papers and books to join the Doctor by his side. She patted the ragged bear with an affectionate smile. "I bet he’s been through quite a lot." She turned to the Doctor, who gave her a bright grin before turning away to continue the search, his detector device crackling and fading with his movements.   
  
A few moments later, Joan stood motionless, staring down at something near her feet. "Doctor?" she whispered at first, then, clearing her throat, she repeated louder: "Doctor!"  
  
The Doctor’s head shot up from where he’d been crouching. "Did you find something?" Joan nodded, her eyes not daring to stray from the object on the ground lest it disappear.  
  
"Yes, I think so. You best come look for yourself." As the Doctor neared, the crackling sound grew in intensity. _Surely this is it,_ she thought.   
  
He kneeled at her feet, lifting up an old book to reveal a bright, red ball. "Is that…?" he murmured. He had a vague memory of that ball, and looked up to Joan for a confirmation. She nodded and bent down next to him, her arms wrapped around her knees.  
  
"Yes, it’s a cricket ball. You," she paused and took a breath, smiling at the memory, "John once threw a cricket ball just like that and saved a baby’s life." At the Doctor’s astonished look, she laughed lightly. "Seems that John had a bit more of you in him than you both thought."  
  
The Doctor picked the ball up with one hand while waving the rod over it with the other. The noise was so intense, there couldn’t be any mistake; this was the fourth segment. He stuffed the tracer into one pocket and tossed the ball into the air, catching it easily in his hand as he stood.  
  
"Well, I suppose that’s that then." He offered a hand and helped Joan to her feet, his fingers brushing against hers as she withdrew from the touch. He scratched the nape of his neck, a nervous gesture that she remembered far too well.  
  
Joan placed her hand at his cheek; he stilled immediately. "You don’t owe me anything else Doctor. You needn’t make this more difficult for yourself." She lowered her hand and sighed. "I think I know you better from John’s writing than I knew John himself." She gave him a tight-lipped smile. "I know how you dislike saying goodbye."  
  
The Doctor nodded with a wry grin. "Seems to be one thing I’m not good at." He stood looking at her for a long moment before coming to some decision. To her surprise, he reached out and enfolded her in an embrace.  
  
Joan closed her eyes and allowed herself to believe it was John holding her, just for that short amount of time. She would never forget the man who loved her, but she was beginning to realize that the Doctor loved her too, in his own strange, alien way.  
  
As if to echo her thoughts, the Doctor leaned closed and whispered, "I may not love you like he did, but for as long as I am alive, you will always be in John’s heart." He pulled back and wiped a tear from her cheek she hadn’t realized she’d shed. "And so you will be in mine as well."  
  
Minutes later, she stood in the rubble of the boys school, clutching the portrait that John had made for her all those years ago. The sound on the wind was odd, an almost mourning sound with just a hint of finality; the sound of his strange and wonderful spaceship departing.  
  
Just for a moment, Joan thought it sounded like it was saying her name.  
  


* * *

  
  
For a long time, the Doctor stood at the console, not really seeing anything other than a haloed blur of levers and gadgets. He thought about the journey he’d made to retrieve the pieces of the key, each person he reunited with teaching him valuable lessons about himself, the people around him, and the friends he’d somehow managed to make along the way. Above all, the message was clear: Nothing was impossible.  
  
He reached in his coat pocket to retrieve the cricket ball, and was startled when the journal fell out to thud against the grating. The Doctor stared at it for a long moment before placing the ball on the console next to the other three pieces and transforming it back to its crystalline form with the tracer.  
  
His immediate task done, he bent down to retrieve the book, the pages falling open to the same page Joan had been reading. His eyes scanned the page slowly, widening at a particular passage:  
  
 _She’s urgent now, telling me about a key that can unlock all doors, something she remembers from the time when she was golden._  
  
"Oh, Rose," he breathed. "You knew all along. You’ve been trying to tell me in my dreams."  
  
Closing the book, he laid it gently on the console, and retrieved the tracer. A few moments later, the coordinates for the fifth segment appeared on the screen. The Doctor rolled his eyes.  
  
"Earth, London. Of course, what did I expect, Klom?" He chuckled to himself as he set the location and time, and then sat back as his ship took him to his next destination.


	7. Against All Odds

"I'll be back at six, love," Trish Webber called out as she headed out the door. "There's a pie in the oven if you and Tara get hungry, okay?" She twisted her head to look back at the girls sitting on the sofa. Neither turned to respond, but one slender arm wagged in her direction in a parody of a wave.  
  
"Yeah, Mum, got it!" Chloe called out, eyes glued to the television on the wall. Trish rolled her eyes and stepped out, locking the door behind her.  
  
There was nothing quite like teenagers – except possibly the thought of packing them off to boarding school until they were twenty.  
  
Trish hefted her bag over her shoulder and started walking in the direction of the nearest station, remembering all the events of the past eight years. One year in particular stood out in her mind all too clearly.  
  
Idle pedestrians and other morning commuters passed by as Trish walked along, lost in memories of 2012. The death of her husband, their flight to that small suburb in Stratford, the Isolus, Rose and the Doctor. Faces and names swam before her eyes, making her feel disoriented and shaky. She put a hand out to steady herself, and was startled when someone grabbed her arm.  
  
"Whoa there!" a familiar voice laughed. "You look as though you could use a breather. Come on then." Unable to focus on the person at her side, Trish let herself be helped to a nearby bench. "That's it, take some deep breaths and relax."  
  
Trish closed her eyes and tried to reorient herself to her surroundings, unconsciously leaning into the stranger's side. After a few moments, she rubbed her hands over her face and opened her eyes.  
  
"Hello!" The Doctor chirped.  
  
Trish tried very hard not to pass out again.  


* * *

  
  
The Doctor had steered Trish into a small café, commanded her to call in sick to work, and ordered two mugs of tea and a selection of freshly baked pastries to share. He busied himself with devouring a particularly sticky-looking danish while Trish spoke to her boss. Ten minutes later and the pastries were gone, but Trish wasn't hungry. She clasped the cooling mug of tea in both hands and sighed.  
  
"So, what brings you here, Doctor? More disappearing children?" She was startled when he began to laugh.  
  
"Nah, seems that was a one-time fluke." He rubbed an earlobe, looking slightly embarrassed. "Although I am surprised to see you here, Trish. When did you leave Dame Kelly Holmes Close?"  
  
Trish leaned back. "Oh, close to five years ago, I suppose. After the whole thing with the Isolus, I can't say we were exactly popular in the neighborhood." She looked down into her mug. "Chloe was fighting so hard to make friends, and she never made them easily, but all the other children were frightened of her. So, I found a good school down here and we moved. It's easier now that Chloe is at university, but we had a rough time for a while."  
  
The Doctor nodded, scratching his chin. "Yes, I suppose it must have been hard for you." He gave her a level look. "Sorry." Trish gave a harsh laugh.  
  
"Sorry? Whatever for? Doctor, you and Rose saved my little girl's life. If it weren't for you, she and possibly hundreds… no, _millions_ of people would have been lost to the Isolus." She reached over and laid a hand over his, giving it a light squeeze. "If anything, I'm sorry for never properly thanking you."  
  
The Doctor shook his head and smiled. "Well," he drawled. "You really should be thanking…" He caught himself. "Someone else."  
  
Trish nodded. "Yes, of course, Rose." She glanced around, as if suddenly realizing that the Doctor was alone. "Where is she, Doctor? I thought she always traveled with you."  
  
The Doctor stared into his empty mug for a long moment before speaking. "She's gone."  
  
Trish frowned slightly. "I don't quite understand. Is she…" She gasped and put a hand to her mouth. "Oh, I'm so sorry."  
  
"Hm? Oh…" The Doctor shook his head. "No, she didn't die. She's just… stuck. Somewhere where I can't get to her." He looked up suddenly. "Do you remember the Battle of Canary Wharf?"  
  
Trish's eyes widened. "Of course I do, everyone living in England at the time does. Most people waved it off as some sort of terrorist attack, but I had friends whose family members were turned right before their eyes." She sighed and gave the Doctor a sympathetic smile. "You and Rose were there, weren't you?"  
  
"Yeah, we were there." The Doctor began dabbing at the crumbs left on his plate with his forefinger. "We fought against the Cybermen and the Daleks, and we won. But in winning, Rose had to sacrifice herself." At Trish's gasp, the Doctor waved her off. "No, she didn't go and commit suicide or anything. At the last moment, she was pulled into a place that I couldn't follow." He sighed. "Even if I'd wanted to."  
  
They were silent for a long time, each remembering the events that occurred that day. After the waitress cleared their table of dirty dishes and crumpled napkins, Trish stood and put on her coat. When the Doctor looked up in question, she held out her hand.  
  
"Come with me. I want you to see Chloe." The Doctor's eyes widened and he started to shake his head.  
  
"No, no I think I better get on with my search. I'm looking for this thing, and I need to find it-" Trish's outstretched hand remained in front of his eyes, her look indicating that she wouldn't be taking no for an answer.  
  
A few seconds passed and the Doctor's hesitation seemed to fade. He grinned widely and clapped his hand into Trish's. "Right, allons-y!"  


* * *

  
  
"…and Tara, she's been amazing. I honestly think that she's the best thing to come into Chloe's life in a long time. They even go to Goldsmith's together. It seems her talent with art came in handy." Trish finished her story of the two girls' friendship; she and the Doctor had been exchanging small stories back and forth on the trip back to her house. While the Doctor hadn't gone into any particular detail, Trish felt no need to hide or disguise any of the problems she and Chloe had experienced since dealing with the Isolus.  
  
She figured that somehow the Doctor knew all about it anyway.  
  
"Ah, here we are," she said cheerfully as the came up to her door. "Home sweet home, or so they say." Trish unlocked the door and pushed it open. "Chloe, Tara! It's just me, I've come home a bit early," she called out then turned to the Doctor. "You're in luck, Doctor, they're on holiday and Chloe's home."  
  
"Aww, mum, couldn't you have rung? We were just about to go out." Chloe came around the corner and stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of the Doctor standing in her doorway. "Oh."  
  
"Oi, Chloe, what're you up to-" a girl of around Chloe's age with dyed pink hair, fell silent once she saw the stranger. "Blimey."  
  
"Hullo, Doctor," Chloe whispered. She leaned towards her friend, Tara, and whispered from the side of her mouth without taking her eyes off the Doctor's face. "Say hello, Tara. He's the Doctor."  
  
"Bloody hell, Clo," Tara whispered back. "You told me he was your hero, but you didn't tell me he was _that_ fit."  
  
The Doctor turned an interesting shade of red while Trish tried to mask her laughter by clearing her throat. "Right!" she choked out, trying to keep the smile off her face. "Everyone inside, no sense in letting all the cold air in." She ushered everyone away from the door, giving the Doctor a sympathetic pat on the back. "Go and have a seat, Doctor. I'll be right back." She ducked into the kitchen, leaving the Doctor to face two teenaged girls.  
  
"Uh," he stumbled. Tara immediately jumped in.  
  
"Hi! I'm Tara McKissick, Clo's best mate." She grinned widely, showing off a smile that no doubt left young men trembling in her wake. "She's told me all about you," she ended, earning a glare from the girl next to her.  
  
" _Tara!_ " Chloe shouldered her friend out of the way. "Will you shut up?" she admonished, although she was unable to keep the grin off her face. "Sorry, Doctor. Tara's a bit of a nutter sometimes."  
  
The Doctor finally relaxed, letting a smile drift onto his features. "Oh, I dunno, crazy's not always a bad thing." He threw Tara a saucy wink, and the girl flushed to nearly the color of her hair.  
  
Chloe sobered quickly. "You… you're not here about me, are you?"  
  
The Doctor blinked, confused for a moment before realizing what Chloe meant. "Oh, oh no, not at all."  
  
The young woman frowned. "Then what're you doing here?"  
  
"The Doctor was looking for something, and we just bumped into each other," Trish answered, emerging from the kitchen with a tray of mugs and some snacks. "Thought we could use another cuppa." She set the tray down on a table and picked one up for herself. "What exactly are you looking for anyways?"  
  
The Doctor took a cup, absently swirling a spoon in the aromatic liquid. "It's complicated."  
  
Trish snorted and gave the Doctor an unimpressed look. "Try me."  
  
"Ah." The Doctor closed his mouth and took a deep breath. "Well, there's this device that my people created."  
  
Tara jumped in, her attention caught by the odd phrasing of the Doctor's words. "What do you mean, 'your people?' You MI-5 or something?" Chloe elbowed her in the ribs while Trish tried to shush her. The Doctor merely chuckled.  
  
"Uh, yeah, something like. Anyway, it was broken up long ago and scattered all over the place. Truth be told, I didn't even know it still existed until a few days ago. I've been using this to hunt down the pieces." He pulled the tracer out of his pocket and set it down on the table in front of him; it barely gave a crackle. "I've found all but two of the pieces, and the tracer indicated that one of them was in this neighborhood somewhere."  
  
While the two students whispered between themselves, Trish leaned towards the Doctor. "And this thing you're looking to reassemble, what does it do?"  
  
"You know, I'm not exactly sure myself. I mean, it's not like I can ask the guy who made it – he's been dead for eons!" The Doctor took a sip from his cup and made a face. He put it back down, picked up the sugar and added a few heaping spoonfuls to his tea. "When I started this goose chase, I wasn't really sure where this was all headed. I just blindly followed wherever the tracer led me, gathering the pieces, without a real question as to why or how." He took a sip of his tea. "Ahh, that's better."  
  
For a few moments, the room was silent but for the sounds of a group of people pouring, stirring and sipping their drinks. The Doctor sat with his cup raised to his face, not drinking but just inhaling the warm, familiar scent.  
  
A sudden thought made him frown. "I don't usually do that sort of thing. Following something I can't explain, I mean. The only thing I had that much faith in was…" He trailed off, suddenly rubbing at his eyes. "By all the Eternals, I'm tired."  
  
Chloe darted up immediately, taking the Doctor's cup before it clattered to the ground. "Well," she said hesitantly, looking towards her mother. "I'm sure it would be okay if you took the guest room for a while."  
  
The Doctor looked up, hand falling back to his lap. "I… huh?"  
  
Trish smiled and nodded at her daughter before turning back to the Doctor. "Chloe's right. You're welcome to rest here while you search for what you need." She saw his hesitation and tilted her head. "What do you say, Doctor? Stay, for old times' sake?"  
  
The Doctor was torn; there was a niggling feeling at the base of his brain that told him he needed to hurry, but for what reason, he couldn't begin to explain. It was as if something disastrous was happening, but he couldn't see it. On the other hand, a large part of his rationality was telling him to slow down, take stock of all the strange occurrences he'd experienced over the past few days, and figure out what in the Other's name was going on. He also realized that his hosts were waiting for an answer.  
  
After his moment of musing, the Doctor made his decision. "Well," he drew the word out, exaggerating the sound. "I suppose a little nap wouldn't hurt." He glanced down at the empty plate, then looked up at Trish with a hopeful expression. "Don't suppose you have any more Hobnobs?"  
  
Trish laughed and started to get up, but Chloe stood up and waved her off. "Don't worry Mum," she said as Tara stood to join her. "I better run Tara home real quick. I can pick up something from the Tescos on the way back. 's no problem." She linked an arm with her best friend's and gave her a meaningful stare as she pulled her from the room. "Come on, Tara."  
  
Tara blinked dazedly. "Ah, yeah, okay." She wiggled her fingers at the Doctor. "Nice to meet you!" She flushed bright pink again when he waved back with a cheeky smirk. The two girls giggled at each other all the way out the door.  
  
Trish laughed at the girls' antics. "Silly things. Nineteen, the both of them, and they're still as silly as they were four years ago."  
  
The Doctor gaped at her. "Nineteen? I didn't realize…" He looked away with a fond smile on his face. "Did you know Rose was nineteen when she started traveling with me? Well," he chuckled. "That's what she _said_ , anyway. I have a feeling she wasn't exactly telling me the truth."  
  
Trish eyed him skeptically. "What, you mean Rose was really thirty or something? No way." The Doctor snorted lightly and shook his head.  
  
"No. Rose was just young… so very young." He fell silent as his thoughts drifted back to images of the girl who promised forever. He came back to attention suddenly, sitting up straighter in his chair as he took another sip of his overly sweet tea. "I think she wants me to find her using this device I'm looking for."  
  
Trish nodded. "You say that like it's a bad thing. Don't you want her back?"  
  
His head jerked up. "Oh, that's the problem. I do, very much so."  
  
Trish looked unimpressed. "And that's a problem why exactly?"  
  
"Because!" The Doctor exclaimed, suddenly standing and running his hands through his hair. "She's a human! Humans die. I would get her back only to lose her again!" He started pacing around the room in short, tight movements. "I told her, I tried to make her understand – it's the curse of my people. The people we care about die while we have to live on."  
  
"But you could have a wonderful life _together_ ," Trish murmured softly.  
  
The tension left the Doctor's shoulders and he slumped back into his chair. "Oh, it would be glorious. But it would still end, just like everything else."  
  
Trish set her cup down on the table with a loud clatter. "Wouldn't it be better to give it a try at least? Rather than sit here, moaning about it. If this thing you're looking to put together again can help you get her back, why not give it a go? What do you have to lose?"  
  
The Doctor inhaled sharply. "For Rose? Everything." He picked a loose thread on his trousers with a fingernail. "You see, for all I know, she could be perfectly happy where she is right now. She has everything she ever wanted – a happy, prosperous family, supportive friends, a wonderful, fulfilling job…"  
  
"She doesn't have you, though," Trish responded quietly.  
  
He shook his head in denial. "Me? No, I'm not…"  
  
Frustrated, Trish smacked her palm against the table. "Don't you _dare_ say that you weren't like that, Doctor. When you stayed with us all those years ago, I saw the pair of you, acting like a couple of besotted teenagers. You can't honestly tell me that Rose didn't love you."  
  
The Doctor didn't say anything, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. "Yes," he whispered. "Rose loved me."  
  
Trish nodded, satisfied with the Doctor's honesty. "See? There you are."  
  
"She told me, the last time I spoke to her." The Doctor continued, his eyes half-shut in memory. "It was a… bad connection of sorts, and we didn't have a lot of time. Wasted most of it by making rubbish comments on how things were going on our end. When she told me, I was so…" He swallowed with difficulty. "I was so shocked, all I could do was shrug it off, laugh it away like I always did. But then I realized I would never see her again…" He sighed, scrubbing his hands over his face. "The connection broke and that was that."  
  
"And were you going to say it, Doctor?" At his questioning glare, Trish pressed further. "Were you going to say that you loved her too?"  
  
The Doctor just stared at her, his lips pressed together tight. Trish rolled her eyes with exasperation.  
  
"Men! I don't care where you come from, you're all bull-headed, emotionally immature nitwits." At the Doctor's sputtering, Trish stood and gathered all the tea dishes back onto the tray. "You might be brilliant at figuring out aliens and monsters, but you have a lot still to learn about affairs of the heart." She straightened and walked towards the kitchen. Trish glanced over her shoulder at him. "Go upstairs, Doctor. Get some rest and maybe it will come to you." Having spoken her thoughts, she disappeared behind the kitchen door.  
  
The Doctor sat nonplussed at the way the conversation had run away from him. "Well," he said aloud. "That was different."  
  
He slowly got up and made his way up the stairs, finding the spare room easily. When he opened the door, he felt slightly dizzy at the sight.  
  
It was as if Trish hadn't changed a thing about the room; nearly everything was the same, right down to the coverlet and the voiles around the window. Even the angle of light coming in from the window was similar, despite the fact that the house he currently stood in was on the other side of London. He sat down heavily on the bed, curling one arm around a post on the headboard and stared down at the rug on the floor. If he dared, he could almost imagine her small, round toes wiggling into the plush fibers with pleasure.  
  
_Oh, Rose._ He toed his trainers off and swung his legs so that he was sitting with his legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankle. What in the universe was he supposed to do?  
  
The Doctor sat looking out of the window at the sky for a long time, remembering the night he and Rose had stayed with Trish and Chloe, and wondering why it felt like he was coming full circle.  
  
He closed his eyes and eventually drifted off to sleep.  


* * *

  
  
When he opened his eyes again, he was back on the beach, sitting with his feet buried in the sand. Yet almost immediately, he noticed something was terribly wrong.  
  
A great gash filled the sky, long and jagged and red, like an open wound. Waves, much larger and angrier than they should have been, crashed violently against anything that got in their way. The wind was bitterly cold, and he could feel the bite of it through his coat. Carried on the wind was a mournful cry, a howling sound that sent a chill through his body. _Bad Wolf…_  
  
Suddenly, he sprang to his feet and ran towards the coastline. He had spotted a crumpled figure lying in the sand, slowly being beaten by the angry waters. As he neared, the figure stirred and started to turn towards him.  
  
"D-doctor?" she called out. He tried to get closer, but it was as if his feet were moving through saltwater taffy. He stumbled and fell, just meters from where Rose was collapsed on the beach.  
  
"Rose, what is going on? What is all this?" He yelled over the noise of the storm. He noticed she was cradling her arm as if it were hurt, and it looked like she had been waiting for some time.  
  
"I don't know. Things are happening here that…" her words were swallowed as another gust of wind blew past, whipping their hair and tearing at their clothing. She gasped as a wave drenched her with water, but the Doctor couldn't seem to break free from whatever it was that had a hold on him.  
  
"Rose!" He gathered his strength and pulled himself up to his knees, inching forward slowly until another gale force wind knocked him over again. _Dammit!_ He cursed mentally. They were like two magnets repelling one another. Regardless of how hard he tried, the Doctor could not seem to move any closer.  
  
The wind finally died down as the Doctor hauled himself up on his elbows. He saw Rose had curled in on herself, arms drawn over her head in an attempt at protecting herself. "Rose," he said, glad that he didn't have to scream to be heard. "I don't quite think these are dreams anymore."  
  
Rose unfolded her arms and looked up at him with large, tired eyes. "You know, I don't either. I always thought I was dreaming when I saw you before. But now… things are falling apart, and I don't know what to do." The Doctor's hearts clenched as tears began to well in her eyes. Even though it was like moving through thick molasses, he reached out and was almost able to touch her outstretched hand.  
  
"We'll figure it out, I just need you to tell me what's been going on," he pleaded, hoping that she would understand the urgency in his voice.  
  
Rose swallowed and bit her chapped lip. "I think it's like the Reapers." At the Doctor's look she continued, pausing occasionally for the occasional gust of wind. "When I first came here, things were fine. We all thought that we'd be able to be a family together. Mum got pregnant, I got a job - things were good." She brushed the hair out of her face with a thin hand and the Doctor could see how blue her fingers were with cold. "Then strange things started happening. Like things of mine started goin' missing. Little things, nothing important." She shrugged. "And then the people around us started…" she fumbled for words. "I dunno, forgetting things. Like the fact that until a few months previous, my coworkers had never met me before in their lives. It was like old memories were replaced with new ones.  
  
"And then mum lost the baby." Rose turned her head so the Doctor wouldn't see the tears that fell. "We don't know what happened, she was doing fine, but it was like, one day she was pregnant, and the next day it was gone." She rubbed her nose and took a deep breath. "And we all thought, 'Oh, must've been the stress.' But then this," she pointed up at the gash in the sky. "This appeared one day, with this great tearing sound, like someone had ripped a hole in the atmosphere.  
  
"It was so small, so thin at first. But every day, it got wider. The storms started up, and the winds and people began to disappear. And I thought, 'It's the Reapers.'" She turned her gaze back to the Doctor. "I'm right, aren't I?"  
  
The Doctor was speechless for a long moment before nodding slowly. "Rose, if this is really happening in your world, it's bad. Really bad. I'm still not one hundred percent sure this isn't some sick fantasy my mind is coming up with but," he said pointedly, cutting off Rose's initial protest, "but, if this is really happening, then yes Rose, you and everyone in that universe are in danger."  
  
"What can I do?" Rose cried. "This is all my fault! My family, people I love are going to die and it's all because of me!" The Doctor could see that Rose was starting to work herself into a panic; he needed to get to her _now_.  
  
"Rose, listen to me. Listen!" He pushed himself forward again, finally able to clasp her hand in his. The small contact warmed them both and he found the strength returning to his limbs. "Rose, where are you now? Are you asleep in your bed in London?" Rose jerked her head from side to side.  
  
"No, no I left home after people started disappearing, figured that the further I was from the people I loved, the safer they'd be." The Doctor nodded in approval. "I'm renting a small beach house out on Beadnell Bay. It was as far as I got before the winds went mad and I had to stop driving."  
  
The Doctor looked around at the beach. "Is that where this is? Is this Beadnell?"  
  
Rose nodded as a bolt of lightning crackled overhead. "Yeah, I think so. I recognized it from my dreams with you. 'Course," she cracked a small smile. "It looked a lot nicer then. I thought that, when I came upon it in my jeep, it was a sign or something."  
  
The Doctor grinned. "Good girl. Right. Do you remember telling me about a key? The Key to Space?"  
  
Rose frowned as she thought. "I… it sounds familiar. Was it something I said to you in one of our dreams?"  
  
"Yes, although," the Doctor gave an embarrassed chuckle, "I wasn't exactly myself then." Rose's eyes widened.  
  
"I remember telling you now. You were all dressed in a funny tweed suit and kept calling yourself John. I figured then I must be dreaming, 'cause you'd never change out of that pinstriped job."  
  
Despite the severity of the situation, the Doctor found himself laughing. "Yes, exactly. But listen, that was me, Rose. It really was. I just don't remember anything because I-"  
  
"Weren't yourself, got it." Rose grinned in spite of herself, but sobered quickly. "I don't know Doctor. I remember fragments of it…" She scrunched her features in frustration. "It's just gone now."  
  
The Doctor's face fell; he'd been counting on Rose to remember what the Key to Space was so that he might have some idea on how to use it properly. And then it hit him.  
  
"Of course! The journal!" In his excitement, the Doctor leapt to his feet, the wind somehow no longer a force against him. He realized he must be close to waking. He stumbled over and knelt down in front of her, gathering her shivering frame in his arms before tilting her head up to look in her eyes.  
  
"Rose Tyler, you must listen to me. I am going to find a way to you. I've been on a journey for a long time, and I've been too stubborn and blind to see the answers in front of me. I still have much left to do, but I will come for you." He pulled her close, feeling her hands snake around his waist and cling to his damp jacket. "Can you wait for me? Can you wait for me here?"  
  
He felt her nod against his chest and grinned. "Good." He leaned back to look at her face, brushing her cheek with a finger. "I'm going to wake up now, but I will be back. And next time, you're coming back with me."  
  
Rose's smile was all the answer he needed. He pulled her close again as he closed his eyes, imagining for a moment the soft warmth of her lips against his.  
  
His eyes snapped open, and all he saw was the white ceiling of Trish's guest room.  


* * *

  
  
Trish was on her way up to check on the Doctor when he came stumbling out the door, looking fevered and not quite sane.  
  
"Doctor, what on earth?" He stilled at the touch of her hand on his sleeve, but whipped around and grabbed Trish by the shoulders.  
  
"I need to get back to the TARDIS. I need to find the last segments and use the Key." The Doctor suddenly released his hold on her and practically leapt down the stairs, Trish trying to follow behind him.  
  
"Wait, Doctor, what's going on? What are you talking about?" Trish called out as the Doctor reached the bottom step and flew out the door. She took just enough time to lock the door behind her as she followed him out into the street.  
  
The Doctor pulled the tracer out of his pocket, which immediately crackled to life. "Trish, have you noticed anything odd pop up lately? Anything at all out of the ordinary."  
  
"What do you mean by 'odd'? Doctor, this is _London_. A lot of odd things go on here every day!" Trish caught up to him, peering around his shoulder as he waved the tracer around in the air. "Probably the strangest thing to go in lately is the new playground a few streets over."  
  
The Doctor gave her a confused look. "Why would a playground be strange?"  
  
Trish raised an eyebrow. "There aren't any children in this neighborhood."  
  
The Doctor was motionless for a brief moment before pocketing the detection device and dashing down an alleyway. "Come on, Trish!"  
  
"Doctor!" she called out. When he stopped and looked back, Trish pointed down the opposite street. "It's this way."  
  
"Ah." The Doctor jogged back, trying not to look embarrassed and failing. "Right. I knew that. Come on, Trish!" He took off in the direction Trish had indicated. She rolled her eyes and chased after him, hoping he wouldn't just take off in a random direction once he reached the next street.  
  
A few minutes later, the out-of-place playground came into sight. It was an ordinary enough looking spot with the usual accoutrements – a swing set, jungle gym, slide and roundabout. It looked very nice and neat, and very new. The Doctor's suspicions were raised immediately – the whole thing was far too neat and tidy for a real playground.  
  
He pulled the tracer from his pocket; it instantly because crackling wildly. "Right, now to figure out which object is really the next segment."  
  
"I don't suppose," Trish started hesitantly. "That it could be the _entire_ playground, could it?" The Doctor blinked absently for a moment before breaking into a wide grin.  
  
"Trish Webber, you're fantastic!" He stepped away from the playground's entrance and tapped the tracer against a fencepost. Trish could hardly believe her eyes when the entire area started glowing. It became so bright she had to shield her eyes and turn away. There was a small popping sound and she turned back to find the Doctor kneeling down in the middle of the now dusty lot, examining what looked like a chunk of glass through his glasses.  
  
"Was that it?" Trish asked as she approached. "Did that do it?"  
  
"Yes," the Doctor replied, picking the fifth segment up and thrusting both it and the tracer into a coat pocket. "Just one more and I can get Rose."  
  
Trish didn't even try to hide the satisfied smile on her face. "So, finally decided to give it a shot?" The Doctor sighed and tilted his head back to look at the sky.  
  
"Don't really have much choice. Events are set into motion now – I have to get her back, otherwise her entire world could be destroyed." He closed his eyes, hoping to shut out some of the sudden unease he felt at the upcoming task that would be required from both himself and Rose.  
  
Trish was silent, staring at the man that had help save so many people so long ago, and hoped that, for the sake of his own happiness, he would be able to achieve the impossible.  
  
An hour later, Trish sat in her living room at home, flipping through uninteresting programs on the television when her daughter finally came through the door.  
  
"I'm back, and I've got biscuits and sweets and Wotsits!" The sound of the front door closing and the rustle of plastic shopping bags followed Chloe as she made her way into the room. "Tara asked me to say goodbye but…" She stopped short once she looked around. "Where's the Doctor?"  
  
Trish smiled back at her. "He's gone off to live happily ever after, that's what." She patted the space on the couch beside her. "What would you say about breaking out that bag of crisps I know you bought and watching this film together?"  
  
Chloe laughed and shook her head. "You're crazy, but okay." She walked over and sat down, leaning into her mother's side. "Do you think he'll be all right?"  
  
Trish placed an arm around Chloe's shoulders and gave her a squeeze. "You know what? I think he will."


	8. Signal Fire

"Right, last piece!" The Doctor placed the fifth segment with the others and looked at them for a moment before jamming the tracer into the console to bring up the next set of coordinates. He bounced over to the monitor, giving it a quick glance before dropping onto the jump seat.  
  
The journal. He pulled the book out of his pocket and started flipping through the pages, eyes searching for anything that might stand out. After a brief search, he found what he was looking for as he read the passage written in his own hand…  


* * *

  
  
_November 6. I've been feeling anxious all day, and perhaps that bled over into my dreams. I haven't dreamed of her in a few weeks, I'm not sure whether to be happy or sad at her return. But I soon realize that something is very wrong._  
  
She doesn't seem to be the same person; she's somehow different from the Rose I dreamed of in the past. She seems hesitant to believe that I'm really standing before her, unlike before when she had no such uncertainty. I wonder if perhaps I've finally lost my mind. But then again, this is only a dream.  
  
She seems lost, as if she's adrift in the very storm that is causing our hair to sting against our skin. She calls out to me, pleads with me, asks me what she should do.  
  
What can I do? I ask her. She shakes her head.  
  
And then she starts to glow. Somehow, this does not frighten nor shock me. It is like she has always had a particular glow, but from the inside. Now it is visible for all to see.  
  
She reaches out a hand to me, but as always, a wall that is both infinite and unbreakable separates us. And she starts to speak, but her voice has changed; somehow, it is no longer Rose's words coming from her lips.  
  
She tells me of a key, and of a man who created it. As the Doctor, I recognize this man as being called 'Rassilon.' She says that Rassilon created this key many thousands of years ago with a group of beings known as the Guardians in order to preserve order throughout all of space. But one Guardian became enamored of the key, and so Rassilon broke the key apart.  
  
However, Rose says, Rassilon somehow knew that the key would be needed in the far future. So he sent the pieces to certain places in the universe where a Time Lord in great need of the key would be able to find and reassemble it. Rose tells me that Rassilon must have foreseen the events that led to our separation from each other, and that those events could cause the destruction of one universe, which would in turn cause a collapse of barriers between worlds. In order to save the universes, I would need to use the key to correct the mistakes that had been made in our combined pasts, and to seal the wound in space that mistake had created.  
  
I have to pull her out of that universe and back into the one she belongs.  
  
Even as the Doctor, Rose's words terrify me. I don't know how to do this thing she is asking of me, I can't remember ever knowing what such a device could do. She's looking at me with sad eyes and I have to look away.  
  
I wake up with my heart pounding, thankful that it was all a dream.  


* * *

  
  
The Doctor stared at the final page for a long time, his mind processing all the information that he, as John Smith, had managed to remember from his dreams. He remembered that a mere six days later, John Smith would fade to a memory, leaving death and destruction in his wake. And yet, here was, quite literally, the key to preventing the collapse of an entire universe.  
  
All he had to do was find the last piece and use the Key to pull her through.  
  
He closed the book and set it aside before turning back to the monitor to see where the next destination was. What he saw there threw him for a loop.  
  
" _Zero_?! How can the destination coordinates be zero?" A look of dawning comprehension appeared on his face. "Unless…" He leapt over and withdrew the tracer from the console.  
  
The crackling noise that immediately filled the room confirmed the Doctor's suspicions. "So, the last piece is in the TARDIS, eh? Wonder why it didn't pick it up before. Unless of course," he patted the console. "You were hiding it until I came to my senses, weren't you old girl?"  
  
The TARDIS chirped and hummed, causing the Doctor to smile warmly in return. "Thanks for that." He held the tracer at arm's length like a divining rod and spun around until the crackling intensified. "Right, down the hall then."  
  
He passed many closed doors and snaked around corners, past rooms he'd long forgotten and even rooms he didn't know the TARDIS had. The tracer led him down a hallway of rooms he vaguely recognized as bedrooms; the slightly ajar door of one showed him a stash of Nitro-9 that Jack would have drooled over. The Doctor walked on, passing rooms that had once belonged to Teagan, Dodo, Steven, and Victoria… He paused when the crackling noise suddenly subsided.  
  
"What the?" he wondered. The Doctor turned around and retraced his steps, realizing he must have passed the room where the last segment was located. After several journeys up and down the hallway, the Doctor stood at the door to the room that caused the greatest reaction from the tracer.  
  
"Should have known, really," he muttered as he opened the door. While part of him expected the final part to be somewhere in Rose's room, he realized that the TARDIS was smarter to hide it here. He would never think to look in Mickey Smith's old room.  
  
He flipped a switch on the wall and the room was illuminated with a soft orange light. The Doctor stepped around the crates on the floor while he searched for the final piece. The room was never fully lived in, unlike some of his more long-term companions, but the TARDIS had tried her best to tailor the room to Mickey's needs.  
  
The Doctor nearly tripped on an old football shirt, stumbling around and trying to regain steady footing before nearly falling on his face. He put a hand out to break his fall and heard something crash to the ground while the tracer went flying.  
  
His lip curled in disgust as his foot squished in something he thought might have once been pizza. He scrambled off the floor, grateful that he'd ordered the TARDIS to disinfect the unused rooms just last week, snatched up the tracer and went in search of whatever fell over on his way down.  
  
The Doctor's eyes fell on an overturned picture frame by the bed and picked it up. He realized that Mickey must have been the photographer. He remembered the day vividly; Christmas dinner with Rose, Jackie and Mickey all around the table, entertaining and being entertained by a new, new Doctor.  
  
Mickey obviously had only meant to take a picture of Rose, but the Doctor's head must have come into view at the last moment. As such, the picture showed Rose and the Doctor beaming at each other, a pink paper crown on the Doctor's head.  
  
He smiled at the memory, but was brought back to reality by the incessant crackling of the tracer in his hand. The Doctor looked at the core and then back at the picture a few times before grinning and leaping to his feet.  
  
"Fantastic!" he exclaimed as he rushed back to the console room.  


* * *

  
  
A few minutes later and all six pieces of the Key and the core were assembled and awaiting instruction. The entire TARDIS hummed with the potential energy and danger, while the Doctor fidgeted with every button on his suit jacket and input the coordinates for Beadnell Bay. Although the Key to Space could technically mend the fabric of the universe from any location, the Doctor preferred not to leave anything to chance.  
  
At least, not this time anyways.  
  
His ship didn't fail him, and settled safely on the shore. From the screen, the Doctor easily recognized the beach from his dreams. As unsettling as it was, it also filled him with anticipation and hope.  
  
It was a good feeling.  
  
The Doctor mulled about technicalities, wondering if he should try using the Key inside or outside of the TARDIS. He wasn't sure if this would work like the Key to Time did all those years ago, but he decided that he could use the added strength he gained from being inside his ship.  
  
"No time like the present, I suppose." He flipped a switch, causing the TARDIS doors to swing open, revealing golden sand and blue-grey of the rolling waves. Taking a deep breath he walked up to the Key, and placed his hands over it.  
  
"I command you! I command you to find Rose and seal the breach!" He waved his hands and then looked expectantly at the doorway.  
  
Nothing.  
  
"Right," he sighed. " _Not_ like the Key to Time then." He scratched a sideburn. "Well, on to plan B… whatever that is. I have a feeling it's going to be much tougher this time around."  
  
The TARDIS hummed encouragingly as the Doctor reexamined the Key to Space. Unlike its counterpart, this Key's segments formed a pyramid, with the core inserted into the apex like a signal tower. The Doctor's eyes widened at the realization. Of course. It was so obvious! _Signals._  
  
He gently placed his hands on either side and picked the Key up; as he did so, the Key grew warm and began to vibrate slightly. If his hunch was correct, he would need to use the Key like a two-way transmitter; he had to send out a signal to the correct spot, and be able to receive one back, using his mind as a sort of conduit. With his abilities as a Time Lord, he hoped the process wouldn't prove unnecessarily difficult, but it was always so hard to tell with this sort of thing.  
  
The Doctor carried the Key over to the open doors and pointed the core in the direction of the beach. The warmth from the crystal was starting to become uncomfortable, but there was a tingling sensation in the back of his mind that told him the Key was starting to work – the barriers between worlds were being broken down, piece by piece, in order to find the erroneous element, _Rose_ , and repair the damage.  
  
He closed his eyes in concentration; the Key was burning his skin, but he knew that if he let go, the connection would be lost and Rose could very well end up in the void. The Doctor followed the signal with his mind, seeing the swirling energies of the Key in his peripheral vision as it pierced the barrier between his universe and Rose's. Some part of his brain registered the pain in his hands as excruciating – he would have to spend some time in the med lab once this was all over – but he was so close to finding her.  
  
The Doctor gave the Key a mental push. His energy was being drained from him, but he didn't want to leave the job half-finished; he still needed the Key to latch on to Rose and pull her through to this side.  
  
After a few long milliseconds, the Key jerked in his hands. As if he were looking out of a spyglass, he saw Rose standing on an identical beach with her arms outstretched. His fingers pressed even tighter into the crystal object, he pushed his mind to the point of exhaustion and forced himself to open his eyes. The sudden bright light was painful, but he noticed that just outside the TARDIS doors, a swirling vortex was forming.  
  
With every moment that passed, he could feel not only the strain on his body and on the TARDIS, but also how his actions were affecting the other universe. It was as if a festering wound was finally healing. He pushed himself even further, his vision starting to blur, and he dimly registered that he was screaming. But it didn't matter.  
  
A high-pitched screeching sound filled his ears and a violent yellow and black blur crashed into him, causing the Key to fall from his hands to shatter against the console room floor, utterly spent.  
  
The impact sent the exhausted Doctor flying backwards, his head smashing against the grating with a loud thud. "Ow!" he cried, as every joint and muscle protested against the fall. His hands were burning, his head hurt, his eyes ached, and he couldn't seem to get up, but none of that mattered. He opened his eyes and was greeted with the most beautiful thing in any universe.  
  
"What took you so long?" Rose asked as she wrapped her arms around his neck.  
  
The Doctor could only grin as he pulled her close and buried his face in her hair.  
  
After a moment in his arms, Rose pulled back a bit with a sudden gasp. "Doctor, you're hurt!" She reached for his burned hands and looked at them. "We need to get you to the med lab. Can you move?"  
  
The Doctor was quiet, looking at her silently before pulling his hands from her grasp and lifting one to trace her features lightly. "Move?" he asked thickly. "You're back. If you want, I could fly."  
  
Rose chuckled softly and cupped his cheek. "Thanks, 'Wesley'. I've seen _The Princess Bride_ more times than you've had hot dinners."  
  
"S'been awhile since I had a hot dinner," The Doctor declared with a smile. "Still, doesn't mean it's any less true."


	9. Into My Arms

Rose helped the Doctor to the med lab to grab a dermal regenerator, the Doctor leaning heavily on her while they walked. He needed to rest, but he knew that Rose would refuse to let him go anywhere without seeing to his wounds. She helped him onto an exam table before searching through cabinets for the proper equipment. The Doctor couldn't take his eyes off of her – every movement she made was precious in his eyes.  
  
"Now, let's see those digits." She pressed an instrument against the skin of his left palm first, then the right. "You idiot," she whispered as she worked. "You didn't have to hurt yourself on my account."  
  
"It was worth it, Rose," the Doctor murmured, reeling from the touch of her skin against his. "Besides, it was just surface damage. See?" He wiggled his fingers at her. "All better!"  
  
Rose crooked a smile but kept her eyes lowered. "Good." She stepped back, allowing the Doctor to slide off the table. "I think you should get some rest, Doctor. I'm sure you're exhausted after all that."  
  
The Doctor nodded as he wound an arm around her shoulders for support. "You could probably do with sleep yourself." They started walking down the hallway, the Doctor steering her gently. "I think you'll find nothing out of place." He stopped and opened a door with a flourish.  
  
Rose stepped forward hesitantly. For a moment, she felt disoriented and confused as she looked around the room. Softly, she whispered, "You kept my room." Rose turned to the Doctor, who was trying his best to look nonchalant while leaning against the doorframe for support. "You kept my room," she repeated with a soft wonder.  
  
The Doctor tried to shrug it off. "Well, it's not like I'd give it to anyone else. Too much of your stuff left behind." He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly shy and unsure how to act or what to say. "Well, I'll let you…." He waved a hand toward the bed. "Get resettled, get some sleep."  
  
Rose didn't turn around to look at him, only nodding slightly in acknowledgement as she looked around the room. Feeling awkward, the Doctor took a deep breath and silently walked off, leaving Rose to her rest.  


* * *

  
  
Nothing had been changed.  
  
Rose was distantly aware that she was alone in her old room, but her mind was too tired and too much in shock to absorb much more than immediate needs. She looked down at her damp and dirty clothing and grimaced.  
  
"No wonder he stared, I must look a state!" She muttered as she walked to the door and shut it with a click. Her eyelids were beginning to droop of their own accord, but she wanted to get clean and into some dry clothing.  
  
As if on auto-pilot, Rose went to the dresser, pulled out clean underwear, a pair of loose fitting pyjama bottoms and a tank top. After a cursory examination, it seemed that they would still fit her quite nicely. A few minutes later, she stood under a steady stream of warm water, washing sea salt and dirt out of her hair. She let her body relax under the gentle pressure.  
  
Rose stood under the shower for as long as she could, turned off the tap and dried herself quickly before slipping into the clean clothes. She padded over to the once-familiar bed, still smelling of fresh laundry, snuggled into the duvet and tried to fall asleep.  
  
After a couple of hours of fitful tossing and turning, Rose flung the covers away and stared at the ceiling. She was exhausted, but her mind simply wouldn't calm down enough to let her rest. Groaning, she swung her feet out of bed and tiptoed out of the room, automatically finding herself standing in the soft light of the console room.  
  
"Hello, girl," Rose whispered into the silence. The TARDIS hummed in response and Rose felt as if a huge weight had been lifted. "Well, at least _you_ are glad to see me back." Something beneath her feet whirred in admonishment and Rose nodded, chuckling. "No, I know, you're right. What is it about the Doctor that reduces me to a petulant child?"  
  
She walked over to the glowing console, fingers tracing over panels and instruments. "I've missed him too, more than I probably should have." Rose walked over to the seat and all but collapsed into it, propping her bare feet up on the edge of the console. "And I'm sure he's been a right terror to be around. I just hope he hasn't been alone this entire time." The TARDIS made a low humming sound, and Rose smiled. "He hasn't? Good. He needs someone to hold his hand." She picked at a bit of peeling tape on the seat. "Even if it couldn't be me."  
  
Rose slid out of the chair and placed both hands on the console gently. "Will you help me remember how to get to his room?" The TARDIS whirred affectionately in response and Rose patted the rotor with fondness. "Thanks, girl."  


* * *

  
  
She'd only been inside the Doctor's room once before, back when he wore the leather and the jumpers. He'd been hurt badly and needed to go into a healing trance for a few hours. Rose had helped him climb into his bed and rearranged the covers over him, then sat on the floor, worrying and biting her nails down to the quick before he woke up again. When he did, he immediately rushed her out of the room, insisting she get some rest of her own. The matter was never discussed again.  
  
But now, things were different. New Doctor, New Rose Tyler. She was no longer a wide-eyed teenager, bored with her life, looking for adventure. She was a grown woman, with needs and desires, and a life that she made fantastic because the man she loved _wanted_ it for her. She had no illusions that she and the Doctor could forget the words she spoke at Bad Wolf Bay all those years ago, nor did she hold any fantasies about an easy return to the life they once shared.  
  
Rose stood outside his door for a long moment or two, listening for any signs of movement. The door wasn't shut fully; she had a feeling the TARDIS might have had a hand in that particular discretion. She sent up a silent thanks to the sentient ship and pushed the door open just wide enough to slip in, closing the door behind her to shut out the light from the hallway.  
  
The room was much like she remembered it – small, sparsely furnished, but clean and neat. Her eyes adjusted to the lack of light and could finally make out the form of the Doctor, lying spread-eagle on top of all the sheets. Rose giggled to herself as she drew close to him, taking in his disheveled appearance.  
  
She knelt on the floor by his bed, looking at his sleeping profile. With his eyes closed and mouth wide open, Rose could imagine for a moment that the Doctor was just a young boy, closer to her own age than the nine hundred years he claimed to be. She placed her folded arms on the edge of the bed and tilted her head to look at him. He was so very peaceful as he laid there, as if he had not a care in the world. She smiled to herself - it was the sort of look that wore well on him.  
  
Rose sighed and rested her chin against her arms. What she said to the TARDIS was true; somehow, the Doctor always managed to reduce her to a nervous, unsure child. Here she was, an accomplished woman in her twenties, with a strong will and an iron constitution, and all she had to do was look at him to revert to a nineteen year old shop girl. She reached out and took his hand, feeling the odd temperature and strangely smooth texture of his skin. For some reason, the simple touch reassured her.  
  
Suddenly, the Doctor shifted and she was staring into a pair of dark eyes. "Hello," he said hoarsely, sleep clinging to his words. "You're still here?"  
  
Rose smiled softly, her fingers twitching over his. "Yeah, 'course I am. I'm not going anywhere."  
  
"Couldn't sleep?" Rose nodded at the Doctor's inquiry. "Well, I'm sure that floor down there can't be comfortable. Come here." To Rose's surprise, he slid over to the far side of the bed, then patted the space next him. When she didn't move, he lifted an eyebrow. "Funny, didn't think you'd fancy being on the cold ground all night."  
  
"Oh," Rose said, blushing slightly. "Oh, okay." She crawled in beside him, nervously rearranging her limbs and avoiding his eyes.  
  
The Doctor instantly enfolded her into his embrace, his hands cool against her back, his breath stirring her hair. "Rose…" he whispered, his lips hovering just above her ear. "Did I do the right thing?"  
  
Rose shifted, bringing her hands up to cup either side of his face. "What do you mean? Of course you did. You saved me, you saved my family and friends, you prevented the collapse of one universe, possibly more, and you're asking me if you did the right thing?" She ran her fingers over his worried brow. "Silly alien."  
  
The Doctor swallowed and looked intently into her eyes. "But you'll never see your family again, never see anyone from that universe."  
  
Rose resisted the urge to roll her eyes, instead smiling before thwacking him lightly on the shoulder. "What did you learn about using the word, 'Never'? After all, you did say I would never see you again, and look what's happened." The Doctor chuckled with a sheepish grin before stilling when Rose pulled him close. "And even if I never get to see them again, you gave me a family – a real, whole, wonderful family – and if I only had them for that short amount of time, it was totally worth it." She took a quick breath, darted forward and placed a small, tender kiss on the side of his mouth. "You're worth it, Doctor."  


* * *

  
  
The Doctor looked at her in silence before reaching up with one hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering over her skin. "Are you sure? I mean, if you wanted to…" He stumbled over his words, trying to not belay any of the nervousness he felt. "If you wanted, I could try to find a way back so you could be with them."  
  
Rose _did_ roll her eyes then, heaving a sigh of exasperation – a familiar gesture that both amused and warmed him. "What did I tell you all those years ago? I made you a promise, remember?" She shifted closer, their noses almost touching; he could feel her breath against his lips. "I'm never gonna leave you. For better or for worse, you're stuck with me."  
  
The Doctor closed his eyes, his fingers seeking hers. "Stuck with you, 's not so bad."  
  
"Yeah?" Rose teased, the familiar words making her smile.  
  
The Doctor slowly blinked his eyes before pinning her with his gaze. "Yes." He ran a thumb over her bottom lip, making her lips part. "Because you know what? To live, especially a life with you, that could be the greatest adventure of all."  
  
Rose laughed breathlessly, the slight movement making them both intensely aware of their proximity to one another. "There you go again, you with your quotes. You can't fool me, that's from—" Her teasing was cut off as the Doctor leaned in and pressed his lips against hers.  
  
She lost herself to his touch, his gentle yet frantic kisses, only barely aware of the actions of her own body. He was whispering, fragments of poetry in different languages, some she'd never heard; and even though the word 'love' was never uttered, the Doctor made his feelings abundantly clear. As though any and all doubts were removed from her mind, Rose pressed herself even closer to his body as she returned his kisses and caresses.  
  
"She will keep returning," the Doctor half-sang, his voice low with emotion. "Always and evermore."  
  
"Yes," Rose murmured, her breath hitching as his fingers danced over the bared skin of her stomach. "Always."  
  
"Is that a promise?" The Doctor gasped as Rose flicked her tongue over the sensitive skin at his throat. "How long are you going to stay with me?"  
  
Rose stilled, leaning back to look into the Doctor's eyes. She placed her hands gently on either side of his face, drawing him close to hers. "Forever," she whispered, her lips just barely brushing against his with the movement.  
  
The Doctor took a shuddering breath and pulled Rose close, wrapping his arms around her tightly. With a pang of regret, he realized that both he and Rose were too exhausted to continue this new relationship of theirs. He knew that, as he felt her snuggle further into the circle of his arms, he wanted to take his time and learn everything he could about one Rose Tyler.  
  
After a few moments, he felt her breathing even out and her grip on his shirt relaxed. The Doctor nuzzled her hair, smelling the clean scent of her shampoo, and smiled.  
  
Against all odds, he had her back. He had so many things he wanted to show her, so many people he wanted her to meet.  
  
But now they had time, they had all the time in the world. Because, after all, she promised him forever and now they finally had it.  
  
And it was going to be _fantastic._

  
THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From the original author's notes...
> 
> A few asides for those interested:
> 
> Chapters 1 and 2 were written as a response to the then rumors of Martha's involvement in Torchwood, and later UNIT. By the time it was posted, these rumors were partially confirmed. Also, this entire story was written in first draft long before the big S4 spoiler about Rose was leaked, hence a storyline that will most likely be completely jossed by canon. But that's okay. 
> 
> Ruxpinia IV and the Ruxpinians are a nod to a childhood icon, Teddy Ruxpin. Although I never owned one of these robotic teddy bears, I always thought they were freaky enough to be part of a sci-fi plot to take over the minds of other children. In my brain, Ruxpinians are the more articulate cousins of the Ewoks.
> 
> I admit to being completely fascinated with the entire Bad Wolf storyline, and the lack of closure on the consequences, Jack and Utopia notwithstanding. Marrying this plot point with a long-time favorite Fourth Doctor serial "The Armageddon Factor" (and the entire Key to Time saga) proved to be a natural match. The description of the tracer/core to the Key to Space is taken directly from the appearance of the tracer in the televised version, although I've taken liberties with its use and final form.
> 
> The "attractive older woman" at the start of chapter 3 just might have been Sarah Jane. Because while I don't choose to revisit her in this journey, I wanted to give her a nod.
> 
> In Chapter 4, the names Trueth, Maresh and Daves are all based on the names of people I work with or otherwise know in "real life." The dream sequences that the Doctor has, particular the one in chapter 4, are based on ideas I had while making artwork for a Doctor/Rose related art contest. Ida was always one of my favorite secondary characters in the new series, hence why I was so eager to write a chapter with her as the featured guest star.
> 
> Chapter 5 was difficult to write. I wanted resolution with Harriet, but I knew it would be tricky, especially with the Doctor knowing that Harriet would soon be ousted, replaced with Saxon. I wanted to bring closure to both of them without giving too much away on the Doctor's part. If you didn't catch it, Jack is the one that gave Harriet the classified Torchwood information, in return for Harriet making sure that Jack would have no problems from her administration in regards to his being "out of his time."
> 
> Chapter 6 is my attempt to make me like the Human Nature/Family of Blood retelling. I won't go into why I disliked the two-parter, but this was my way of coming to terms with a lot of the emotional distress surrounding the episodes - as well as giving Joan and the Doctor a bit of closure that I don't think either of them received. The cricket ball as the missing segment is a nod to the original novel - in it, the cricket ball is the key to the Doctor's memory. The song this chapter is named for was originally written for the Vietnam war, but I believe it to be especially poignant for WWI, when so many young men went off to war for glory and fame... and never returned.
> 
> Chapter 7 was the original catalyst for this story. Earlier last year, I'd written my first fanfic called "Lonely Children," as part of a "missing scene" challenge on LJ. I never did post it there (as the challenge had LONG since been closed), but it did meet with some positive response from outside. One suggestion was to meet Trish and Chloe again, post-Doomsday, and thus the seeds for this ENTIRE story were born. Tara McKissick is DIRECTLY influenced by my friend Roxy, right down to the pink-streaked hair and vivacious personality. The fact that the segment in this chapter is in the form of an unusually placed playground is a big giant wink-nudge to my X-Files friends, who will remember that one such playground covered up an alien conspiracy.
> 
> Chapter 8 was pretty straightforward, but there is one thing I'd like to mention. The way the Doctor tries to get the Key to activate (by waving his hands over the Key) is exactly how the Fourth Doctor activated the Key to Time - cheesy, but hey, it worked the first time! 
> 
> Chapter 9 was originally going to be called "the Epilogue," but I disliked the finality of that term. The quote the Doctor uses near the end, that Rose is about to call him on, is the final line from Hook, my favorite childhood movie (shut up). Tinkerbell jokes aside, the idea - that we can do anything, if we just believe - is one I think the Doctor has lived by in the past... one I think he needs to reinvest in if he were to go searching for Rose on his own. The other side of this coin is that we all, every single one of us, need someone to believe in us. Rose is that someone for him. The lyrics that the Doctor half-sings to Rose come from the song "Into My Arms," by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, which is also the name of this chapter. I thought it was fitting for them.


End file.
